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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 


P. L. 123 


Q P O 9—1455 





























ALASKA 


THE GREAT COUNTRY 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO 
DALLAS • SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

TORONTO 

















































































































































































































Photo by E. W. Merrill, Sitka Courtesy of G. Kostrometinoff 

Alexander Baranoff 







ALASKA 


THE GREAT COUNTRY 


BY 

ELLA * HIGGINSON 

n 

AUTHOR OF “ MARIELLA, OF OUT-WEST,” “ WHEN THE 
BIRDS GO NORTH AGAIN,” “ FROM THE LAND 
OF THE SNOW-PEARLS,” ETC. 


NEW EDITION WITH NEW MATTER 


Nefo gork . 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

1919 


All rights reserved 



Copyright, 1908 and 1917 , 

By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 


Set up and electrotyped. Published November, 1908. Reprinted 
February, 1909; March, 1910; October, 1912. 

New edition with new matter, March, 19x7. 



Norbjoob 

J. S. Cushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 


nULHSMB 

D, O. PUBLIC LIBRARY 

SEPT. IO, 1 40 



644827 


district of 

transferred from pubuio 


Co 


MR. AND MRS. HENRY ELLIOTT HOLMES 



























FOREWORD 


When the Russians first came to the island of Un- 
alaska, they were told that a vast country lay to the 
eastward and that its name was Al-ay-ek-sa. Their own 
island the Aleuts called Nagun-Alayeksa, meaning “ the 
land lying near Alayeksa.” 

The Russians in time came to call the country itself 
Alashka; the peninsula, Aliaska; and the island, Un- 
alashka. Alaska is an English corruption of the original 
name. 

A great Russian moved under inspiration when he sent 
Vitus Behring out to discover and explore the continent 
lying to the eastward; two great Americans — Seward 
and Sumner — were inspired when, nearly a century and 
a half later, they saved for us, in the face of the bitterest 
opposition, scorn, and ridicule, the country that Behring 
discovered and which is now coming to be recognized as 
the most glorious possession of any people; but, first of 
all, were the gentle, dark-eyed Aleuts inspired when they 
bestowed upon this same country — with the simplicity 
and dignified repression for which their character is noted 
— the beautiful and poetic name which means “ the great 
country.” 


Soul-sick am I, 0 God, of little things — 

Small pleasures, aspirations, creeds, desires; 
Loro valleys, slender brooks and hearthside fires. 
I want the sweep of wide, triumphant wings; 

The halleluiah that the ocean sings; 

The wind that roars like beasts and never tires 1 
Great God, my sord aches to the mighty lyres 
Of Nature ! To men heritaged as kings 
Who dare, aspire, achieve, not counting cost, 

So that a deed be done that reaches far — 

A new land won; a perilous water crossed; 

So that a man coming to his last rest 

Shall wear upon his brow the splendid star 
That leads the glorious empire-builders West! 


PREFACE 

This book was written at a period when “the great 
country ” was emerging from the pioneer state and en¬ 
tering upon its era of industrial development. In revis¬ 
ing the story, in an attempt to present Alaskan conditions 
as they exist to-day, it has not seemed advisable to change 
the body of the book, which deals chiefly with the natu¬ 
ral beauty, early history, native customs, and irresistible 
appeal of the country. The reader who desires exact 
information to date along the lines of commercial, min¬ 
ing, agricultural, and governmental development and the 
building of the two great railroads, will find it in a 
separate chapter at the close of the book. 


ix 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Alexander Baranoff. Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

Alaska (colored map ).1 

Copper Smelter in Southeastern Alaska .... 2 

Kasa-an.9 

Howkan.16 

Distant View of Davidson Glacier.21 

Davidson Glacier.36 

A Phantom Ship.41 

Road through Cut-off Canyon.48 

Scene on the White Pass.53 

Steel Cantilever Bridge, near Summit of White Pass 68 

Old Russian Building, Sitka.73 

Greek-Russian Church at Sitka.80 

Eskimo in Walrus-skin Kamelayka.101 

Eskimo in Bidarka.116 

Railroad Construction, Eyak Lake.121 

Eyak Lake, near Cordova.128 

Indian Houses, Cordova.133 

Valdez.148 

An Alaskan Road House.153 

Kow-Ear-Nuk and his Drying Salmon.160 

Steamer “Resolute”.165 

“Obleuk,” an Eskimo Girl in Parka.180 

A Northern Madonna.185 

Eskimo Lad in Parka and Mukluks.192 

Scales and Summit of Chilkoot Pass in 1898 . . . 197 


xi 

















LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


xii 

FACING PAGE 

Summit of Chilkoot Pass in 1898 . 212 

Pine Falls, Atlin.. . . . 229 

Lake Bennett in 1898 . 244 

White Horse, Yukon Territory.249 

Grand Canyon of the Yukon.256 

White Horse Rapids.261 

White Horse Rapids in Winter.276 

Steamer “White Horse” in Five-Finger Rapids . . 293 

A Yukon Snow Scene near White Horse .... 308 

A Home in the Yukon.325 

One and a Half Millions of Klondike Gold . . . 340 

A Famous Team of Huskies.357 

Cloud Effect on the Yukon.372 

“Wolf”. 389 

Dog-team Express, Nome.404 

Four Beauties of Cape Prince of Wales with Sled 

Reindeer of the American Missionary Herd . . 421 

Council City and Solomon River Railroad — A Char¬ 
acteristic Landscape of Seward Peninsula . . 436 

Teller.453 

Family of King’s Island Eskimos living under Skin 

Boat, Nome.468 

Wreck of “Jessie,” Nome Beach.485 

Sunrise on Behring Sea.500 

Surf at Nome . . . ;.505 

Moonlight on Behring Sea . 512 

















134 






















































































































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


CHAPTER I 

Every year, from June to September, thousands of 
people “go to Alaska.” This means that they take pas¬ 
sage at Seattle on the most luxurious steamers that run up 
the famed “inside passage” to Juneau, Sitka, Wrangell, 
and Skaguay. Formerly this voyage included a visit to 
Muir Glacier; but because of the ruin wrought by a re¬ 
cent earthquake, this once beautiful and marvellous thing 
is no longer included in the tourist trip. 

This ten-day voyage is unquestionably a delightful one; 
every imaginable comfort is provided, and the excursion 
rate is reasonable. However, the person who contents 
himself with this will know as little about Alaska as a 
foreigner who landed in New York, went straight to 
Niagara Falls and returned at once to his own country, 
would know about America. 

Enchanting though this brief cruise may be when the 
weather is favorable, the real splendor, the marvellous 
beauty, the poetic and haunting charm of Alaska, lie west 
of Sitka. “To Westward” is called this dream-voyage 
past a thousand miles of snow-mountains rising straight 
from the purple sea and wrapped in coloring that makes 
it seem as though all the roses, lilies, and violets of heaven 
had been pounded to a fine dust and sifted over them; 
past green islands and safe harbors; past the Malaspina 
and the Columbia glaciers; past Yakutat, Kyak, Cordova, 
Yaldez, Seward, and Cook Inlet; and then, still on “to 
Westward” — past Kodiak Island, where the Russians 


2 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


made their first permanent settlement in America in 1784 
and whose sylvan and idyllic charm won the heart of the 
great naturalist, John Burroughs ; past the Aliaska Penin¬ 
sula, with its smoking Mount Pavloff; past Unimak Island, 
one of whose active volcanoes, Shishaldin, is the most per¬ 
fect and symmetrical cone on the Pacific Coast, not even 
excepting Hood — and on and in among the divinely pale 
green Aleutian Islands to Unalaska, where enchantment 
broods in a mist of rose and lavender and where one may 
scarcely step without crushing violets and bluebells. 

The spell of Alaska falls upon every lover of beauty 
who has voyaged along those far northern snow-pearled 
shores with the violet waves of the North Pacific Ocean 
breaking splendidly upon them; or who has drifted down 
the mighty rivers of the interior which flow, bell-toned 
and lonely, to the sea. 

I know not how the spell is wrought; nor have I ever 
met one who could put the miracle of its working into 
words. No writer has ever described Alaska; no one 
writer ever will; but each must do his share, according 
to the spell that the country casts upon him. 

Some parts of Alaska lull the senses drowsily by their 
languorous charm; under their influence one sinks to a 
passive delight and drifts unresistingly on through a 
maze of tender loveliness. Nothing irritates. All is soft, 
velvety, soothing. Wordless lullabies are played by dif¬ 
ferent shades of blue, rose, amber, and green; by the curl 
of the satin waves and the musical kiss of their cool and 
faltering lips; by the mists, light as thistle-down and 
delicately tinted as wild-rose petals, into which the 
steamer pushes leisurely; by the dreamy poise of seabirds 
on white or lavender wings high in the golden atmosphere; 
by the undulating flight of purple Shadow, tiptoe, through 
the dim fiords; by the lap of waves on shingle, the song 
of birds along the wooded shore, the pressure of soft winds 























ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


3 


on the temples and hair, the sparkle of the sea weighing 
the eyelids down. The magic of it all gets into the blood. 

The steamer slides through green and echoing reaches; 
past groups of totems standing like ghosts of the past 
among the dark spruce or cedar trees; through stone¬ 
walled canyons where the waters move dark and still; 
into open, sunlit seas. 

But it is not until one sails on “ to Westward ” that the 
spell of Alaska falls upon one; sails out into the wild and 
splendid North Pacific Ocean. Here are the majesty, the 
sublimity, that enthrall; here are the noble spaces, the 
Titanic forces, the untrodden heights, that thrill and 
inspire. 

The marvels here are not the marvels of men. They 
are wrought of fire and stone and snow by the tireless 
hand that has worked through centuries unnumbered and 
unknown. 

He that would fall under the spell of Alaska, will sail 
on “to Westward,” on to Unalaska; or he will go North¬ 
ward and drift down the Yukon — that splendid, lonely 
river that has its birth within a few miles of the sea, yet 
flows twenty-three hundred miles to find it. 

Alaskan steamers usually sail between eight o’clock in 
the evening and midnight, and throngs of people congre¬ 
gate upon the piers of Seattle to watch their departure. 
The rosy purples and violets of sunset mix with the mists 
and settle upon the city, climbing white over its hills; as 
hours go by, its lights _ sparkle brilliantly through them, 
yet still the crowds sway upon the piers and wait for the 
first still motion of the ship as it slides into the night and 
heads for the far, enchanted land — the land whose sweet, 
insistent calling never ceases for the one who has once 
heard it. 

Passengers who stay on deck late will be rewarded by 
the witchery of night on Puget Sound — the soft fragrance 


4 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


of the air, the scarlet, blue, and green lights wavering 
across the water, the glistening wake of the ship, the city 
glimmering faintly as it is left behind, the dim shores of 
islands, and the dark shadows of bays. 

One by one the lighthouses at West Point on the star¬ 
board side, and at Point-No-Point, Marrowstone, and Point 
Wilson, on the port, flash their golden messages through 
the dusk. One by one rise, linger, and fade the dark out¬ 
lines of Magnolia Bluff, Skagit Head, Double Bluff, and 
Liplip Point. If the sailing be early in the evening, mid¬ 
night is saluted by the lights of Port Townsend, than 
which no city on the Pacific Coast has a bolder or more 
beautiful situation. 

The splendid water avenue — the burning “Opal-Way” 
— that leads the ocean into these inland seas was named 
in 1788 by John Meares, a retired lieutenant of the British 
navy, for Juan de Fuca (whose real name was Apostolos 
Valerianos), a Greek pilot who, in 1592, was sent out in a 
small “ caravela ” by the Viceroy of Mexico in search of 
the fabled “Strait of Anian,” or “Northwest Passage” — 
supposed to lead from the Pacific to the Atlantic north of 
forty degrees of latitude. 

As early as the year 1500 this strait was supposed to 
have been discovered by a Portuguese navigator named 
Cortereal, and to have been named by him for one of his 
brothers who accompanied him. 

The names of certain other early navigators are men¬ 
tioned in connection with the “ Strait of Anian.” Cabot is 
reported vaguely as having located it “ neere the 318 merid¬ 
ian, between 61 and 64 degrees in the eleuation, continuing 
the same bredth about 10 degrees West, where it openeth 
Southerly more and more, until it come under the tropicke 
of Cancer, and so runneth into Mar del Zur, at least 18 
degrees more in bredth there than where it began; ” Fro¬ 
bisher; Urdaneta, “a Fryer of Mexico, who came out of 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


5 


Mar del Zur this way into Germanieand several others 
whose stories of having sailed the dream-strait that was 
then supposed to lead from ocean to ocean are not now 
considered seriously until we come to Juan de Fuca, who 
claimed that in his “ caravela ” he followed the coast “vntill 
hee came to the latitude of fortie seuen degrees, and that 
there finding that the land trended North and North-east, 
with a broad Inlet of Sea between 47 and 48 degrees of 
Latitude, hee entered thereinto, sayling therein more than 
twenty days, and found that land trending still sometime 
Northwest and North-east and North, and also East and 
Southeastward, and very much broader sea then was at 
said entrance, and that hee passed by diuers Hands in that 
sayling. And that at the entrance of this said Strait, 
there is on the North-west coast thereof, a great Hedland 
or Hand, with an exceeding high pinacle or spired Rocke, 
like a pillar, thereupon.” 

He landed and saw people clothed in the skins of beasts; 
and he reported the land fruitful, and rich in gold, silver, 
and pearl. 

Bancroft and some other historians consider the story of 
Juan de Fuca’s entrance to Puget Sound the purest fiction, 
claiming that his descriptions are inaccurate and that no 
pinnacled or spired rock is to be found in the vicinity 
mentioned. 

Meares, however, and many people of intelligence gave 
it credence; and when we consider the differences in the 
descriptions of other places by early navigators, it is not 
difficult to believe that Juan de Fuca really sailed into 
the strait that now bears his name. Schwatka speaks of 
him as, “An explorer — if such he may be called—who 
never entered this beautiful sheet of water, and who owes 
his immortality to an audacious guess, which came so near 
the truth as to deceive the scientific world for many a 
century.” 


6 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The Strait of Juan de Fuca is more than eighty miles 
long and from ten to twelve wide, with a depth of about 
six hundred feet. At the eastern end it widens into an 
open sea or sound where beauty bloonls like a rose, and 
from which forest-bordered water-ways wind slenderly in 
every direction. 

From this vicinity v on clear days, may be seen the Olym¬ 
pic Mountains floating in the west; Mount Rainier, in the 
south; the lower peaks of the Crown Mountains in the 
north; and Mount Baker — or Kulshan, as the Indians 
named it— in the east. 

The Island of San Juan, lying east of the southern end 
of Vancouver Island, is perhaps the most famous, and cer¬ 
tainly the most historic, on the Pacific Coast. It is the 
island that barely escaped causing a declaration of war 
between Great Britain and the United States, over the 
international boundary, in the late fifties. For so small 
an island, — it is not more than fifteen miles long, by 
from six to eight wide, — it has figured importantly in 
large affairs. 

The earliest trouble over the boundary between Van¬ 
couver Island and Washington arose in 1854. Both coun¬ 
tries claimed ownership of San Juan and other islands 
near by, the Oregon Treaty of 1846 having failed to 
make it clear whether the boundary was through the 
Canal de Haro or the Strait of Rosario. 

I. N. Ebey, American Collector of Customs, learning 
that several thousand head of sheep, cattle, and hogs had 
been shipped to San Juan without compliance with customs 
regulations, visited the island and was promptly insulted 
by a British justice of the peace. The Otter made her 
appearance in the harbor, bearing James Douglas, gov¬ 
ernor of Vancouver Island and vice-admiral of the British 
navy; but nothing daunted, Mr. Ebey stationed In¬ 
spector Webber upon the island, declaring that he would 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


7 


continue to discharge his official duties. The final 
trouble arose, however, in 1859, when an American resb 
dent shot a British pig ; and serious trouble was precipi¬ 
tated as swiftly as when a United States warship was 
blown up in Havana Harbor. General Harney hastily 
established military quarters on one end of the island, 
known as the American Camp, Captain Pickett trans¬ 
ferring his company from Fort Bellingham for this pur¬ 
pose. English Camp was established on the northern 
end. Warships kept guard in the harbors. Joint occu¬ 
pation was agreed upon, and until 1871 the two camps 
were maintained, the friendliest social relations existing 
between them. In that year the Emperor of Germany 
was chosen as arbitrator, and decided in favor of the 
United States, the British withdrawing the following year. 

Until 1895 the British captain’s house still stood upon 
its beautiful bluff, a thousand feet above the winding blue 
bay, the shore descending in steep, splendid terraces to 
the water, stairwayed in stone, and grown with old and 
noble trees. Macadam roads led several miles across the 
island ; the old block-house of pioneer days remained at 
the water’s edge ; and clustered around the old parade 
ground — now, alas ! a meadow of hay — were the quar¬ 
ters of the officers, overgrown with English ivy. The 
captain’s house, which has now been destroyed by fire, 
was a low, eight-roomed house with an immense fireplace 
in each room ; the old claret- and ivory-striped wall-paper 

— which had been brought “around the Horn ” at immense 
cost — was still on the walls. Gay were the scenes and 
royal the hospitalities of this house in 'the good days of 
the sixties. Its site, commanding the straits, is one of 
the most effective on the Pacific Coast; and at the present 
writing it is extremely probable that a captain’s house 
may again rise among the old trees on the terraced bluff 

— but not for the occupancy of a British captain. 


8 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Every land may occasionally have a beautiful sunset, 
and many lands have gorgeous and brilliant ones ; but 
nowhere have they such softly burning, milky-rose, 
opaline effects as on this inland sea. 

Their enchanting beauty is doubtless due to the many 
wooded islands which lift dark green forestated hills 
around open sweeps of water, whereon settle delicate mists. 
When the fires of sunrise or of sunset sink through these 
mists, the splendor of coloring is marvellous and not 
equalled anywhere. It is as though the whole sound were 
one great opal, which had broken apart and flung its 
escaping fires of rose, amethyst, amber, and green up 
through the maze of trembling pearl above it. The un¬ 
usual beauty of its sunsets long ago gave Puget Sound 
the poetic name of Opal-Sea or Sea of Opal. 






Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau 



















CHAPTER II 


After passing the lighthouse on the eastern end of 
Vancouver Island, Alaskan steamers continue on a north¬ 
erly course and enter the Gulf of Georgia through Active 
Pass, between Mayne and Galiana islands. This pass is 
guarded by a light on Mayne Island, to the steamer’s star¬ 
board, going north. 

The Gulf of Georgia is a bold and sweeping body of 
water. It is usually of a deep violet or a warm purplish 
gray in tone. At its widest, it is fully sixty miles — al¬ 
though its average width is from twenty to thirty miles 
— and it rolls between the mainland and Vancouver 
Island for more than one hundred miles. 

The real sea lover will find an indescribable charm in 
this gulf, and will not miss an hour of it. It has the 
boldness and the sweep of the ocean, but the setting, the 
coloring, and the fragrance of the forest-bordered, snow- 
peaked sea. A few miles above the boundary, the Fraser 
River pours its turbulent waters into the gulf, upon whose 
dark surface they wind and float for many miles, at sun¬ 
rise and at sunset resembling broad ribbons of palest old 
rose crinkled over waves of silvery ambei? silk. At times 
these narrow streaks widen into still pools of color that 
seem to float suspended over the heavier waters of the 
gulf. Other times they draw lines of different color 
everywhere, or drift solid banks of smoky pink out to 
meet others of clear blue, with only the faintest thread of 
pearl to separate them. These islands of color constitute 


10 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


one of the charms of this part of the voyage to Alaska ; 
along with the velvety pressure of the winds ; the pic¬ 
turesque shores, high and wooded in places, and in others 
sloping down into the cool shadowy bays where the 
shingle is splashed by spent waves; and the snow-peaks 
linked above the clouds on either side of the steamer. 

Splendid phosphorescent displays are sometimes wit¬ 
nessed in the gulf, but are more likely to occur farther 
north, in Grenville, or one of the other narrow channels, 
where their brilliancy is remarkable. 

Tourists to whom a whale is a novelty will be gratified, 
without fail, in this vicinity. They are always seen 
sporting about the ships, — sometimes in deadly conflict 
with one another,— and now and then uncomfortably near. 

In December, 190T, an exciting battle between a whale 
and a large buck was witnessed by the passengers and 
crew of the steamer Cassiar , in one of the bays north of 
Vancouver, on the vessel’s regular run from that city to 
northern ports. 

When the Cassiar appeared upon the scene, the whale 
was making furious and frequent attacks upon the buck. 
Racing through the water, which was lashed into foam on 
all sides by its efforts, it would approach close to its 
steadily swimming prey and then disappear, only to come 
to the surface almost under the deer. This was repeated 
a number of times, strangely enough without apparent 
injury to the deer. Again, the whale would make its 
appearance at the side of the deer and repeatedly endeavor 
to strike it with its enormous tail; but the deer was suf¬ 
ficiently wise to keep so close to the whale that this could 
not be accomplished, notwithstanding the crushing blows 
dealt by the monster. 

The humane passengers entreated the captain to go to 
the rescue of the exhausted buck and save it from inevi¬ 
table death. The captain ordered full speed ahead, and 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


11 


at the approach of the steamer the whale curved up out 
of the water and dived gracefully into the sea, as though 
making a farewell, apologetic bow on its final dis¬ 
appearance. 

AVhereupon the humane passengers shot the helpless 
and worn-out buck at the side of the steamer, and he was 
hauled aboard. 

It may not be out of place to devote a few pages to 
the average tourist. To the one who loves Alaska and 
the divinely blue, wooded, and snow-pearled ways that 
lead to its final and sublime beauty, it is an enduring 
mystery why certain persons — usually women—should 
make this voyage. Their minds and their desires never 
rise above a whale or an Indian basket; and unless the 
one is to be seen and the other to be priced, they spend 
their time in the cabin, reading, playing cards, or telling 
one another what they have at home. 

“ Do you know,” said one of these women, yawning into 
the full glory of a sunset, “ we have sailed this whole day 
past Vancouver Island. Not a thing to be seen but it 
and this water you call the Gulf of Georgia! I even 
missed the whales, because I went to sleep, and I’d rather 
have seen them than anything. If they don’t hurry up 
some towns and totem-poles, I’ll be wishing I’d stayed at 
home. Do you play five hundred ? ” 

The full length of the Jefferson was not enough to put 
between this woman and the woman who had enjoyed 
every one of those purple water-miles; 1 every pearly 
cloud that had drifted across the pale blue sky ; every 
bay and fiord indenting the shore of the largest island on 
the Pacific Coast; e very humming-bird that had throbbed 
about us, seeking a rose at sea; every thrilling scent that 
had blown down the northern water-ways, bearing the 
far, sweet call of Alaska to senses awake and trembling 
to receive it; who had felt her pulses beating full to the 


12 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


throb of the steamer that was bearing her on to the land 
of her dreams — to the land of Far Delight. 

If only the players of bridge and the drinkers of pink 
tea would stay at home, and leave this enchanted voyage 
for those who understand ! There be enough of the elect 
in the world who possess the usual five senses, as well as 
that sixth sense which is of the soul, to fill every steamer 
that sails for Alaska. 

Or, the steamship companies might divide their excur¬ 
sions into classes — some for those who love beauty, and 
some for those who love bridge. 

For the sea lover, it is enough only to stand in the bow 
of a steamer headed for Alaska and hear the kiss and the 
rippling murmur of the waves as they break apart when 
the sharp cut-water pierces them, and then their long, 
musical rush along the steamer’s sides, ere they reunite in 
one broad wake of bowing silver that leads across the 
purple toward home. 

The mere vibration of a ship in these still inland seas is 
a physical pleasure by day and a sensuous lullaby at night; 
while, in summer, the winds are so soft that their touches 
seem like caresses. 

The inlets and fiords extending for many miles into the 
mainland in this vicinity are of great beauty and grandeur, 
many winding for forty or fifty miles through walls of 
forestation and snow that rise sheer to a height of eight 
or ten thousand feet. These inlets are very narrow, 
sometimes mere clefts, through which the waters slip, 
clear, still, and of deepest green. They are of unknown 
depth; the mountains are covered with forests, over 
which rise peaks of snow. Cascades are numerous, and 
their musical fall is increased in these narrow fastnesses 
to a roar that may be heard for miles. 

Passing Burrard Inlet, on which the city of Vancouver 
is situated, the more important inlets are Howe, Jervis, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


18 


from which Sedielt Arm leads southward and is distin¬ 
guished by the wild thunder of its rapids; Homery 
Channel, Price Channel, which, with Lewis Channel on 
the west, forms Redonda Island ; Bute Inlet, which is the 
most beautiful and the most important; Knight, Seymour, 
Kingcome, and Belize inlets. 

The wild and picturesque beauty of these inlets has 
been praised by tourists for many years. The Marquis of 
Lome was charmed by the scenery along Bute Inlet, 
which he extolled. It is about fifty miles in length and 
narrows in places to a width of a half-mile. The shores rise 
in sheer mountain walls, heavily forestated, to a height of 
seven and eight thousand feet, their snowy crests over¬ 
hanging the clear, green-black waters of the narrow fiord. 
Many glaciers stream down from these peaks. 

The Gulf of Georgia continues for a distance of one 
hundred miles in a northwesterly direction between the 
mainland and Vancouver Island. Texada, Redonda, and 
Valdes are the more important islands in the gulf. 
Texada appears on the starboard, opposite Comox; the 
narrow strait separating it from the mainland is named 
Malaspina, for the Italian explorer. The largest glacier 
in the world, streaming into the sea from Mount St. Elias, 
more than a thousand miles to the northwestward from 
this strait, bears the same name. 

Texada Island is twenty-eight miles long, with an 
average width of three miles. It is wooded and moun¬ 
tainous, the leading peak — Mount Shepard — rising to 
a height of three thousand feet. The lighthouse on its 
shore is known as “Three Sisters Light.” 

Along the shores of Vancouver Island and the mainland 
are many ranches owned and occupied by “remittance 
men.” In these beautiful, lonely solitudes they dwell with 
all the comforts of “ old England,” forming new ties, but 
holding fast to old memories. 


14 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


In the summer of 1907 a yachting-party in the Gulf 
of Georgia, encountering a severe storm, sought anchorage 
in a sheltered bay. Observing a low, spreading roof 
among the trees, the members of the party went ashore 
and were surprised to find themselves in grounds that re¬ 
sembled an English estate. 

While they stood lost in admiration and hesitating to 
intrude, a gentleman appeared, and greeting them with 
dignified cordiality, invited them into his residence. Upon 
accepting the invitation, they found in the wilds of British 
Columbia, far from any other habitation, a home of luxu¬ 
rious refinement. The library, alone, in the admirable 
selection of its volumes and the good taste exhibited in 
their binding, would have distinguished any home. 

“ Our pleasures ? ” the owner replied to an inquiry. 
“ Oh, there are early blue mornings on the water; pleasant 
afternoons along the sparkling trout-streams of the hills; 
dinners upon our piazza overlooking one of the fairest 
scenes I have ever beheld, although I have travelled far; 
and long evenings spent by the fireside” — his glance, 
almost loving, went to a fireplace six feet wide at one end 
of the library — “ with the best of books. These are our 
daily pleasures. We have many guests from Vancouver, 
Victoria and England, with whom we delightfully cruise 
the inlets and Alaska. You will find many such homes 
among these islands — called remittance-men’s ranches. 
Every Englishman,” he added, with a charming smile ,“ who 
finds it his pleasure to settle down and spend his income 
in the free life of the wild far from the conventions of 
England, is called a remittance-man by those who could 
never dream of the charm of such a life to certain natures. 
The real remittance-man leaves England, of necessity; we, 
of our own desire for the wild and the open — for the life 
of the mountain and the sea.” 

Passing Cape Mudge lighthouse, Discovery Passage, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


15 


sometimes called Valdes Narrows, is entered. It is a nar¬ 
row pass, twenty-four miles long, between Vancouver and 
Valdes islands. Halfway through it is Seymour Narrows, 
one of the most famous features of the “ inside route,” or 
passage, to Alaska. Passengers are awakened, if they 
desire, that they may be on deck while passing through 
these difficult narrows. 

The Indian name of this pass is Yaculta. 

“ Yaculta is a wicked spirit,” said the pilot, pacing the 
bridge at four o’clock of a primrose dawn. “She lives 
down in the clear depths of these waters and is supposed 
to entice guileless sailors to their doom. Yaculta sleeps 
only at slack-tide, and then boats, or ships, may slip 
through in safety, provided they do not make sufficient 
noise to awaken her. If they try to go through at any 
other stage of the tide, Yaculta stirs the whole pass into 
action, trying to get hold of them. Many’s the time I’ve 
had to back out and wait for Yaculta to quiet down.” 

If the steamer attempts the pass at an unfavorable hour, 
fearful seas are found racing through at a fourteen-knot 
speed ; the steamer is flung from side to side of the rocky 
pass or sucked down into the boiling whirlpools by Yaculta. 
The brown, shining strands of kelp floating upon Ripple 
Reef, which carries a sharp edge down the centre of the 
pass, are the wild locks of Yaculta’s luxuriant hair. 

Pilots figure, upon leaving Seattle, to reach the narrows 
during the quarter-hour before or after slack-tide, when 
the water is found as still and smooth as satin stretched 
from shore to shore, and not even Yaculta’s breathing dis¬ 
turbs her liquid coverlet. 

Many vessels were wrecked here before the dangers of 
the narrows had become fully known: the steamer Saranac, 
in 1875, without loss of life; the Wachusett, in 1875; the 
Grappler, in 1888, which burned in the narrows with a 
very large loss of life, including that of the captain; and 


16 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


several less appalling disasters have occurred in these 
deceptive waters. 

Three miles below Cape Mudge the tides from Juan de 
Fuca meet those from Queen Charlotte Sound, and force a 
fourteen-knot current through the narrows. The most 
powerful steamers are frequently overcome and carried 
back by this current. 

Discovery Passage merges at Chatham Point into John¬ 
stone Strait. Here the first Indian village, Alert Bay, 
is seen to starboard on the southern side of Cormorant 
Island. These are the Kwakiutl Indians, who did not at 
first respond to the advances of civilization so readily as 
most northern tribes. They came from their original vil¬ 
lage at the mouth of the Nimpkish River, to work in the 
canneries on the bay, but did not take kindly to the ways 
of the white man. A white child, said to have been stolen 
from Vancouver, was taken from these Indians a few years 
ago. 

Some fine totem-poles have been erected here, and the 
graveyard has houses built over the graves. From the 
steamer the little village presents an attractive appearance, 
situated on a curving beach, with wooded slopes rising 
behind it. 

Gorgeous potlatches are held here ; and until the spring 
of 1908 these orgies were rendered more repulsive by the 
sale of young girls. 

Dr. Franz Boas, in his “ Kwakiutl Texts,” describes a 
game formerly played with stone disks by the Kwakiutls. 
They also had a myth that a game was played with these 
disks between the birds of the upper world and the myth- 
people, that is, “all the animals and all the birds.” The 
four disks were called the “ mist-covered gambling stone,” 
the “ rainbow gambling stone,” the “ cloud-covered gam¬ 
bling stone,” and the “carrier of the world.” The wood¬ 
pecker and the other myth-birds played on one side; the 



Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau 




































































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ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


17 


Thunder-bird and the birds of the upper air on the other. 
The contestants were ranged in two rows; the gambling 
stones were thrown along the middle between them, and 
they speared them with their beaks. The Thunder-bird 
and the birds of the upper air were beaten. This myth is 
given as an explanation of the reason for playing the game 
with the gambling stones, which are called lselse. 

The Kwakiutls still play many of their ancient and 
picturesque gambling games at their potlatches. 

Johnstone Strait is fifty-five miles long, and is continued 
by Broughton Strait, fifteen miles long, which enters 
Queen Charlotte Sound. 

Here is a second, and smaller, Galiana Island, and on 
its western end is a spired rock which, some historians 
assert, may be “ the great headland or island with an ex¬ 
ceeding high pinnacle or spired rock thereon,” which Juan 
de Fuca claimed to discover, and which won for him the 
charge of being an “ audacious guesser ” and an “ unscru¬ 
pulous liar.” His believers, however, affirm that, having 
sailed for twenty days in the inland sea, he discovered 
this pinnacle at the entrance to what he supposed to be 
the Atlantic Ocean; and so sailed back the course he had 
come, believing himself to have been successful in discov¬ 
ering the famed strait of Anian. Why Vancouver’s mis¬ 
takes, failures, and faults should all be condoned, and 
Juan de Fuca’s most uncompromisingly condemned, is 
difficult to understand. 

Fort Rupert, on the northern end of Vancouver Island, 
beyond Broughton Strait, is an old Hudson’s Bay post, 
situated on Beaver Harbor. The fort was built in 1849, 
and was strongly defended, troubles frequently arising 
from the attacks of Kwakiutl and Haidah Indians. Great 
potlatches were held there, and the chief’s lodge was as 
notable as was the “ Old-Man House ” of Chief Seattle. 
It was one hundred feet long and eighty feet wide, and 


18 


ALASKA: THE GEE AT COUNTRY 


rested on carved corner posts. There was an immense 
wooden potlatch dish that held food for one hundred 
people. 

Queen Charlotte Sound is a splendid sweep of purple 
water; but tourists do not, usually, spend much time en¬ 
joying its beauty. Their berths possess charms that 
endure until shelter of the islands is once more assured, 
after the forty miles of open exposure to the swell of the 
ocean which is not always mild, notwithstanding its name. 
Those who miss it, miss one of the most beautiful features 
of the inland voyage. The warm breath of the Kuro 
Siwo, penetrating all these inland seas and passages, is 
converted by the great white peaks of the horizon into 
pearl-like mist that drifts in clouds and fragments upon 
the blue waters. Nowhere are these mists more frequent, 
nor more elusive, than in Queen Charlotte Sound. They 
roll upon the sparkling surface like thistle-down along a 
country lane — here one instant, vanished the next. At 
sunrise they take on the delicate tones of the primrose or 
the pinkish star-flower; at sunset, all the royal rose 
and purple blendings; all the warm flushes of amber, 
orange, and gold. Through a maze of pale yellow, whose 
fine cool needles sting one’s face and set one’s hair with 
seed-pearls, one passes into a little open water-world 
where a blue sky sparkles above a bluer sea, and the air 
is like clear, washed gold. But a mile ahead a solid wall 
of amethyst closes in this brilliant sea; and presently the 
steamer glides into it, shattering it into particles that set 
the hair with amethysts, instead of pearls. Sometimes 
these clear spaces resemble rooms walled in different 
colors, but ceiled and floored in blue. Other times, the 
whole sound is clear, blue, shining; while exquisite gossa¬ 
mers of changeful tints wrap and cling about the islands, 
wind scarfs around the green hills, or set upon the brows 
of majestic snow-monarchs crowns as jewelled and as 


ALASKA: TUE GREAT COUNTRY 


19 


evanescent as those worn by the real kings of the earth. 
Now and then a lofty fir or cedar may be seen draped with 
slender mist-veils as a maiden might wind a scarf of cob¬ 
webby lace about her form and head and arms — so lightly 
and so gracefully, and with such art, do the delicate folds 
trail in and out among the emerald-green branches of the 
tree. 

It is this warm and excessive moisture — this daily 
mist-shower—that bequeaths to British Columbia and 
Alaska their marvellous and luxuriant growth of vegeta¬ 
tion, their spiced sweetness of atmosphere, their fairness 
and freshness of complexion — blending and constituting 
that indescribable charm which inspires one, standing on 
the deck of a steamer at early dawn, to give thanks to God 
that he is alive and sailing the blue water-ways of this 
sublime country. 

“ I don’t know what it is that keeps pulling me back to 
this.country,” said a man in the garb of a laborer, one day. 
He stood down in the bow of the steamer, his hands were 
in his pockets, his throat was bared to the wind ; his 
blue eyes — sunken, but burning with that fire which 
never dies in the eyes of one who loves nature — were 
gazing up the pale-green narrow avenue named Grenville 
Channel. “ It’s something that you can’t exactly put into 
words. You don’t know that it’s got hold of you while 
you’re up here, but before you’ve been ‘ outside ’ a month, 
all at once you find it pulling at you — and after it begins, 
it never lets up. You try to think what it is up here that 
you want so ; what it is keeps begging at you to come 
back. Maybe there ain’t a darn soul up here you care 
particular about ! Maybe you ain’t got an interest in a 
claim worth hens’ teeth ! Maybe you’re broke and know 
you’ll have to work like a go-devil when you get here ! 
It don’t make any difference. It’s just Alaska. It calls 
you and calls you and calls you. Maybe you can’t come, 


20 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


so you keep pretending you don’t hear — but Lord, you 
do hear! Maybe somebody shakes hands as if he liked 
you — and there’s Alaska up and calling right through 
you, till you feel your heart shake ! Maybe a phonograph 
sets up a tune they used to deal out at Magnuson’s road¬ 
house on the trail — and you hear that blame lonesome 
waterfall up in Keystone Canyon calling you as plain as 
you hear the phonograph! Maybe you smell something 
like the sun shining on snow, all mixed up with tundra and 
salt air—and there’s double quick action on your eyes 
and a lump in your throat that won’t be swallowed down! 
Maybe you see a white mountain, or a green valley, or a 
big river, or a blue strait, or a waterfall — and like a flash 
your heart opens, and shuts in an ache for Alaska that 
stays ! . . . No, I don’t know what it is, but I do know 
how it is; and so does every other poor devil that ever 
heard that something calling him that’s just Alaska. It 
wakes you up in the middle of the night, just as plain as 
if somebody had said your name out loud, and you just lay 
there the rest of the night aching to go. I tell you what, 
if ever a country had a spirit, it’s Alaska ; and when it 
once gets hold of you and gets to calling you to come, 
you might just as well get up and start, for it calls you 
and follows you, and haunts you till you do.” 

It is the pleading of the mountains and the pleading of 
the sea woven into one call and sent floating down laden 
with the sweetness of the splendid spaces. No moun¬ 
taineer can say why he goes back to the mountains ; no 
sailor why he cannot leave the sea. No one has yet seen 
the spirit that dwells in the waterfall, but all have heard 
it calling and have known its spell. 

“If you love the sea, you’ve got to follow it,” said a 
sea-rover, “ and that’s all there is to it. A man can get 
along without the woman he loves best on earth if he has 
to, but he can’t get along without the sea if he once gets 





Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

Distant View of Davidson Glacier 





ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


21 


to loving it. It gets so it seems like a thing alive to him, 
and it makes up for everything else that he don’t have. 
And it’s just like that with Alaska. When a man has 
made two-three trips to Alaska, you can’t get him off on 
a southern run again, as long as he can help himself.” 

It is an unimaginative person who can wind through 
these intricate and difficult sounds, channels, and passes 
without a strange, quickened feeling, as of the presence of 
those dauntless navigators who discovered and charted 
these waters centuries ago. From Juan de Fuca north¬ 
ward they seem to be sailing with us, those grim, brave 
spectres of the past — Perez, Meares, Cuadra, Valdes, 
Malaspina, Duncan, Vancouver, Whidbey — and all the 
others who came and went through these beautiful ways, 
leaving their names, or the names of their monarchs, 
friends, or sweethearts, to endure in blue stretches of 
water or glistening domes of snow. 

We sail in safety, ease, luxury, over courses along which 
they felt their perilous way, never knowing whether Life 
or Death waited at the turn of the prow. Nearly a cen¬ 
tury and a quarter ago Vancouver, working his way cau¬ 
tiously into Queen Charlotte Sound, soon came to disaster, 
both the Discovery and her consort, the Chatham , striking 
upon the rocks that border the entrance. Fortunately 
the return of the tide in a few hours released them from 
their perilous positions, before they had sustained any 
serious damage. y 

But what days of mingled indecision, hope, and despair 
— what nights of anxious watching and waiting — must 
have been spent in these places through which we glide 
so easily now; and the silent spirits of the grim-peopled 
past take hold of our heedless hands and lead us on. 
Does a pilot sail these seas who has never on wild nights 
felt beside him on the bridge the presence of those early 
ones who, staring ever ahead under stern brows, drove 


22 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


their vessels on, not knowing what perils lay beyond ? 
Who, asked, “ What shall we do when hope be gone ? ” 
made answer, “ Why, sail on, and on, and on.” 

From Queen Charlotte Sound the steamer passes into 
Fitzhugh Sound around Cape Calvert, on Calvert Island. 
Off the southern point of this island are two dangerous 
clusters of rocks, to which, in 1776, by Mr. James Hanna, 
were given the interesting names of “Virgin ” and “Pearl.” 
In this poetic vicinage, and nearer the island than either, is 
another cluster of rocks, upon which some bold and sacri¬ 
legious navigator has bestowed the name of “ Devil.” 

“ It don’t sound so pretty and ladylike,” said the pilot 
who pointed them out, “ but it’s a whole lot more appro¬ 
priate. Rocks are devils — and that’s no joke; and what 
anybody should go and name them 4 virgins ’ and ‘ pearls ’ 
for, is more than a man can see, when he’s standing at a 
wheel, hell-bent on putting as many leagues between him 
and them as he can. It does seem as if some men didn’t 
have any sense at all about naming things. Now, if I 
were going to name anything ‘ virgin ’ ” — his blue eyes 
narrowed as they stared into the distance ahead — “it 
would be a mountain that’s always white ; or a bay that 
gets the first sunshine in the morning; or one of those 
little islands down in Puget Sound that’s just covered with 
flowers.” 

Just inside Fitzhugh Sound, on the island, is Safety 
Cove, or Oatsoalis, which was named by Mr. Duncan in 
1788, and which has ever since been known as a safe 
anchorage and refuge for ships in storm. Vancouver, 
anchoring there in 1792, found the shores to be bold and 
steep, the water from twenty-three to thirty fathoms, 
with a soft, muddy bottom. Their ships were steadied 
with hawsers to the trees. They found a small beach, 
near which was a stream of excellent water and an abun- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


23 


dance of wood. Vessels lie here at anchor when storms 
or fogs render the passage across Queen Charlotte Sound 
too perilous to be undertaken. 

Fitzhugh Sound is but a slender, serene water-way run¬ 
ning directly northward thirty miles. On its west, lying 
parallel with the mainland, are the islands of Calvert, 
Hecate, Nalau, and Hunter, separated by the passages of 
Kwaksliua, Hakai, and Nalau, which connect Fitzhugh 
with the wide sweep of Hecate Strait. 

Burke Channel, the second link in the exquisite water 
chain that winds and loops in a northwesterly course be¬ 
tween the islands of the Columbian and the Alexander 
archipelagoes and the mainland of British Columbia and 
Alaska, is scarcely entered by the Alaskan steamer ere it 
turns again into Fisher Channel, and from this, westward, 
into the short, very narrow, but most beautiful Lama Pass. 

From Burke Channel several ribbonlike passages form 
King Island. 

Lama Pass is more luxuriantly wooded than many of the 
others, and is so still and narrow that the reflections of the 
trees, growing to the water’s edge, are especially attractive. 
Very effective is the graveyard of the Bella Bella Indians, 
in its dark forest setting, many totems and curious archi¬ 
tectures of the dead showing plainly from the steamer 
when an obliging captain passes under slow bell. Near 
by, on Campbell Island, is the village of the Bella Bellas, 
who, with the Tsimpsians and the Alert Bay Indians, were 
formerly regarded as the most treacherous and murderous 
Indians of the Northwest Coast. Now, however, they are 
gathered into a model village, whose houses, church, 
school, and stores shine white and peaceful against a dark 
background. 

Lama Pass is one of the most poetic of Alaskan water¬ 
ways. 

Seaforth Channel is the dangerous reach leading into 


24 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Millbank Sound. It is broken by rocks and reefs, on one 
of which, Rejetta Reef, the Willapa was stranded ten 
years ago. Running off Seaforth and Millbank are some 
of the finest fiords of the inland passage — Spiller, John- 
ston, Dean, Ellerslie, and Portlock channels, Cousins and 
Cascades inlets, and many others. Dean and Cascades 
channels are noted for many waterfalls of wonderful 
beauty. The former is ten miles long and half a mile 
wide. Cascades Inlet extends for the same distance in a 
northeasterly direction, opening into Dean. Innumer¬ 
able cataracts fall sheer and foaming down their great 
precipices; the narrow canyons are filled with their 
musical, liquid thunder, and the prevailing color seems 
to be palest green, reflected from the color of the water 
underneath the beaded foam. Vancouver visited these 
canals and named them in 1T93, and although, seemingly, 
but seldom moved by beauty, was deeply impressed by it 
here. He considered the cascades “ extremely grand, and 
by much the largest and most tremendous we had ever 
beheld, their impetuosity sending currents of air across 
the canal.” 

These fiords are walled to a great height, and are of 
magnificent beauty. Some are so narrow and so deep 
that the sunlight penetrates only for a few hours each 
day, and eternal mist and twilight fill the spaces. In 
others, not disturbed by cascades, the waters are as clear 
and smooth as glass, and the stillness is so profound that 
one can hear a cone fall upon the water at a distance of 
many yards. Covered with constant moisture, the vegeta¬ 
tion is of almost tropic luxuriance. In the shade, the 
huge leaves of the devil’s-club seem to float, suspended, 
upon the air, drooping slightly at the edges when touched 
by the sun. Raspberries and salmon-berries grow to 
enormous size, but are so fragile and evanescent that they 
are gone at a breath, and the most delicate care must be 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


25 


exercised in securing them. They tremble for an instant 
between the tongue and the palate, and are gone, leaving 
a sensation as of dewdrops flavored with wine ; a memory 
as haunting and elusive as an exquisite desire known once 
and never known again. 

In Dean Canal, Vancouver found the water almost 
fresh at low tide, on account of the streams and cascades 
pouring into it. 

There he found, also, a remarkable Indian habitation; 
a square, large platform built in a clearing, thirty feet 
above the ground. It was supported by several uprights 
and had no covering, but a fire was burning upon one end 
of it. 

In Cascade Canal he visited an Indian village, and 
found the construction of the houses there very curious. 
They apparently backed straight into a high, perpendicu¬ 
lar rock cliff, which supported their rears; while the 
fronts and sides were sustained by slender poles about 
eighteen feet in height. 

Vancouver leaves the method of reaching the entrances 
to these houses to the reader’s imagination. 

It was in this vicinity that Vancouver first encountered 
“ split-lipped ” ladies. Although he had grown accustomed 
to distortions and mutilations among the various tribes 
he had visited, he was quite unprepared for the repulsive 
style which now confronted him. 

A horizontal incision was made about three-tenths of 
an inch below the upper part of the lower lip, extending 
from one corner of the mouth to the other, entirely 
through the flesh; this orifice was then by degrees 
stretched sufficiently to admit an ornament made of wood, 
which was confined close to the gums of the lower jaws, 
and whose external surface projected horizontally. 

These wooden ornaments were oval, and resembled a 
small platter, or dish, made concave on both sides ; they 


26 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


were of various lengths, the smallest about two inches and 
a half; the largest more than three inches long, and an 
inch and a half broad. 

They were about one-fifth of an inch thick, and had a 
groove along the middle of the outside edge to receive 
the lip. 

These hideous things were made of fir, and were highly 
polished. Ladies of the greatest distinction wore the 
largest labrets. The size also increased with age. They 
have been described by Vancouver, Cook, Lisiansky, La 
Perouse, Dali, Schwatka, Emmans, and too many others 
to name here ; but no description can quite picture them 
to the liveliest imagination. When the “ wooden trough ” 
was removed, the incision gave the appearance of two 
mouths. 

All chroniclers unite as to the hideousness and repulsive¬ 
ness of the practice. 

Of the Indians in the vicinity of Fisher Channel, Van¬ 
couver remarks, without a glimmer of humor himself, 
that the vivacity of their countenance indicated a lively 
genius; and that, from their frequent bursts of laughter, 
it would appear that they were great humorists, for their 
mirth was not confined to their own people, but was fre¬ 
quently at the expense of his party. They seemed a 
happy, cheerful people. This is an inimitable English 
touch; a thing that no American would have written, 
save with a laugh at himself. 

Poison Cove in Mussel Canal, or Portlock Canal, was 
so named by Vancouver, whose men ate roasted mussels 
there. Several were soon seized with numbness of the 
faces and extremities. In spite of all that was done to 
relieve their sufferings, one—John Carter — died and 
was buried in a quiet bay which was named for him. 

Millbank Sound, named by Mr. Duncan before Van¬ 
couver’s arrival, is open to the ocean, but there is only 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


21 


an hour’s run before the shelter of the islands is regained ; 
so that, even when the weather is rough, but slight dis¬ 
comfort is experienced by the most susceptible passengers. 
The finest scenery on the regular steamer route, until the 
great snow fields and glaciers are reached, is considered 
by many well acquainted with the route, to lie from Mill- 
bank on to Dixon Entrance. The days are not long 
enough now for all the beauty that weighs upon the senses 
like caresses. At evening, the sunset, blooming like a 
rose upon these splendid reaches, seems to drop perfumed 
petals of color, until the still air is pink with them, and 
the steamer pushes them aside as it glides through with 
faint throbbings that one feels rather than hears. 

Through Finlayson Channel, Heikish Narrows, Graham, 
Fraser, and McKay reaches, Grenville Channel,—through 
all these enchanting water avenues one drifts for two 
hundred miles, passing from one reach to another without 
suspecting the change, unless familiar with the route, and 
so close to the wooded shores that one is tormented with 
the desire to reach out one’s hand and strip the cool green 
spruce and cedar needles from the drooping branches. 

Each water-way has its own distinctive features. In 
Finlayson Channel the forestation is a solid mountain of 
green on each side, growing down to the water and ex¬ 
tending over it in feathery, flat sprays. Here the reflec¬ 
tions are so brilliant and so true on clear days, that the 
dividing line is not perceptible to the vision. The moun¬ 
tains rise sheer from the water to a great height, with 
snow upon their crests and occasional cataracts foaming 
musically down their fissures. Helmet Mountain stands 
on the port side of the channel, at the entrance. 

There’s something about “Sarah” Island! I don’t 
know what it is, and none of the mariners with whom I 
discussed this famous island seems to know; but the fact 
remains that they are all attached to “Sarah.” 


28 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Down in Lama Pass, or possibly in Fitzhugh Sound, one 
hears casual mention of “ Sarah ” in the pilot-house or 
chart-room. Questioned, they do not seem to be able to 
name any particular feature that sets her apart from the 
other islands of this run. 

“Well, there she is!” exclaimed the captain, at last. 
“Now, you’ll see for yourself what there is about Sarah.” 

It is a long, narrow island, lying in the northern end of 
Finlayson Channel. Tolmie Channel lies between it and 
Princess Royal Island; Heikish Narrows — a quarter of a 
mile wide — between it and Roderick Island. Through 
Heikish the steamer passes into the increasing beauty of 
Graham Reach. 

“Now, there! ” said the captain. “If you can tell me 
what there is. about that island, you can do more than any 
skipper /know can do; but just the same, there isn’t one 
of us that doesn’t look forward to passing Sarah, that 
doesn’t give her particular attention while we are passing, 
and look back at her after we’re in Graham Reach. She 
isn’t so little . . . nor so big. . . . The Lord knows she 
isn’t so pretty! ” He was silent for a moment. Then he 
burst out suddenly: “I’m blamed if I know what it is! 
But it’s just so with some women. There’s something 
about a woman, now and then, and a man can’t tell, to save 
his soul, what it is; only, he doesn’t forget her. You see, 
a captain meets hundreds of women; and he has to be 
nice to every one. If he is smart, he can make every 
woman think she is just running the ship — but Lord! he 
wouldn’t know one of them if he met her next week on 
the street . . . only now and then ... in years and 
years . . . one! And that one he can’t forget. He 
doesn’t know what there is about her, any more than he 
knows what there is about ‘Sarah.’ Maybe he doesn’t 
know the color of her eyes nor the color of her hair. 
Maybe she’s married, and maybe she’s single —for that 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


29 


isn’t it. He isn’t in love with her — at least I guess he 
isn’t. It’s just that she has a way of coming back to him. 
Say he sees the Northern Lights along about midnight — 
and that woman comes like a flash and stands there with 
him. After a while it gets to be a habit with him when 
he gets into a port, to kind of look over the crowds for 
some one. For a minute or two he feels almost as if he 
expected some one to meet him; then he knows he’s dis¬ 
appointed about somebody not being there. He asks 
himself right out who it is. And all at once he remem¬ 
bers. Then he calls himself an ass. If she was the kind 
of woman that runs to docks to see boats come in, he’d 
laugh and gas with her — but he wouldn’t be thinking of 
her till she pushed herself on him again.” 

The captain sighed unconsciously, and taking down a 
chart from the ceiling, spread it out upon a shelf and bent 
over it. I looked at Sarah, with her two lacy cascades 
falling like veils from her crown of snow. Already she 
was fading in the distance — yet how distinguished was 
she! How set apart from all others! 

Then I fell to thinking of the women. What kind are 
they — the ones that stay! The one that comes at mid¬ 
night and stands silent beside a man when he sees the 
Northern Lights, even though he is not in love with her 
— what kind of woman is she ? 

“ Captain,” I said, a little later, “ I want to add some¬ 
thing to Sarah’s name.” 

“ What is it? ” said he, scowling over the chart. 

“ I want to name her 4 Sarah, the Remembered .’ ” 

He smiled. 

“All right,” said he, promptly. “I’ll write that on the 
chart.” 

And what an epitaph that would be for a woman — 
“The Remembered! ” If one only knew upon whose bit 
of marble to grave it. 


30 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Fraser and McKay reaches follow Graham, and then is 
entered Wright Sound, a body of water of great, and 
practically unknown, depth. This small sound feeds six 
channels leading in different directions, one of which — 
Verney Pass —leads through Boxer Reach into the famed 
magnificence and splendor of Gardner Canal, whose waters 
push for fifty miles through dark and towering walls. 
An immense, glaciered mountain extends across the end 
of the canal. 

Gardner Canal—named by Vancouver for Admiral Sir 
Alan Gardner, to whose friendship and recommendation 
he was indebted for the command of the expedition to 
Nootka and the Northwest Coast — is doubtless the grand¬ 
est of British Columbian inlets or fiords. At last, the 
favorite two adjectives of the Vancouver expedition — 
“ tremendous ” and “ stupendous ” — seem to have been 
most appropriately applied. Lieutenant Whidbey, explor¬ 
ing it in the summer of 1793, found that it “presented to 
the eye one rude mass of almost naked rocks, rising into 
rugged mountains, more lofty than he had before seen, 
whose towering summits, seeming to overhang their bases, 
gave them a tremendous appearance. The whole was cov¬ 
ered with perpetual ice and snow that reached, in the 
gullies formed between the mountains, close down to the 
high-water mark; and many waterfalls of various dimen¬ 
sions were seen to descend in every direction.” 

This description is quoted in full because it is an excel¬ 
lent example of the descriptions given out by Vancouver 
and his associates, who, if they ever felt a quickening of 
the pulses in contemplation of these majestic scenes, were 
certainly successful in concealing such human emotions 
from the world. True, they did occasionally chronicle a 
“pleasant” breeze, a “pleasing” landscape which “re¬ 
minded them of England; ” and even, in the vicinity of 
Port Townsend, they were moved to enthusiasm over a 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


31 


“ landscape almost as enchantingly beautiful as the most 
elegantly finished pleasure-grounds in Europe,” which 
called to their remembrance “certain delightful and be¬ 
loved situations in Old England.” 

But apparently, having been familiar only with pleasing 
pastoral scenes, they were not able to rise to an apprecia¬ 
tion of the sublime in nature. “ Elegant ” is the mincing 
and amusing adjective applied frequently to snow moun¬ 
tains by Vancouver; he mentions, also, “spacious mead¬ 
ows, elegantly adorned with trees ; ” but when they arrive 
at the noble beauty which arouses in most beholders a 
feeling of exaltation and an appreciation of the marvellous 
handiwork of God, Vancouver and his associates, having 
never seen anything of the kind in England, find it only 
“tremendous,” or “ stupendous,” or a “ rude mass.” They 
would have probably described the chaste, exquisite cone 
of Shishaldin on Unimak Island — as peerless and apart in 
its delicate beauty among mountains as Venice is among 
cities — as “ a mountain covered with snow to the very sea 
and having a most elegant point.” 

There are many mountains more than twice the height 
of Shishaldin, but there is nowhere one so beautiful. 

Great though our veneration must be for those brave 
mariners of early years, their apparent lack of appreciation 
of the scenery of Alaska is to be deplored. It has fastened 
upon the land an undeserved reputation for being “rugged” 
and “ gloomy ” — two more of their adjectives ; of being 
“ice-locked, ice-bound, and ice-bounded.” We may par¬ 
don them much, but scarcely the adjective “ grotesque,” 
as applied to snow mountains. 

Grenville Channel is a narrow, lovely reach, extending 
in a northwestward direction from Wright Sound for 
forty-five miles, when it merges into Arthur Passage. In 
its slender course it curves neither to the right nor to the 
left. 


32 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


In this reach, at one o’clock one June day, the thrilling 
cry of 44 man overboard” ran over the decks of the Santa 
Ana. There were more than two hundred passengers 
aboard, and instantly an excited and dangerous stampede 
to starboard and stern occurred; but the captain, cool 
and stern on the bridge, was equal to the perilous situa¬ 
tion. A life-boat was ordered lowered, and the steerage 
passengers were quietly forced to their quarters forward. 
Life-buoys, life-preservers, chairs, ropes, and other articles 
were flung overboard, until the water resembled a junk- 
shop. Through them all, the man’s dark, closely shaven 
head could be seen, his face turned from the steamer, as 
he swam fiercely toward the shore against a strong cur¬ 
rent. The channel was too narrow for the steamer to 
turn, but a boat was soon in hot pursuit of the man who 
was struggling fearfully for the shore, and who was sup¬ 
posed to be too bewildered to realize that he was headed 
in the wrong direction. What was our amazement, when 
the boat finally reached him, to discover, by the aid of 
glasses, that he was resisting his rescuers. There was a 
long struggle in the water before he was overcome and 
dragged into the boat. 

He was a pitiable sight when the boat came level with 
the hurricane deck; wild-eyed, gray-faced, shuddering 
like a dog; his shirt torn open at the throat and exposing 
its tragic emaciation; his glance flashing wildly from one 
face to another, as though in search of one to be trusted—• 
he was an object to command the pity of the coldest heart. 
In his hand was still gripped his soft hat which he had 
taken from his head before jumping overboard. 

44 What is it, my man?” asked the captain, kindly, ap¬ 
proaching him. 

The man’s wild gaze steadied upon the captain and 
seemed to recognize him as one in authority. 

“They’ve been trying to kill me, sir, all the way up.” 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


33 


“Who?” 

The poor fellow shuddered hard. 

“They,” he said. “They’re on the boat. I had to 
watch them night and day. I didn’t dast go to sleep. It 
got too much; I couldn’t stand it. I had to get ashore. 
I’d been waiting for this channel because it was so nar¬ 
row. I thought the current ’u’d help me get away. I’m 
a good swimmer.” 

“A better one never breasted a wave! Take him below. 
Give him dry clothes and some whiskey, and set a watch 
over him.” 

The poor wretch was led away; the crowd drifted after 
him. Pale and quiet, the captain went back to the chart- 
room and resumed his slow pacing forth and back. 

“ I wish tragedies of body and soul would not occur in 
such beautiful lengths of water,” he said at last. “ I can 
never sail through Grenville Channel again without see¬ 
ing that poor fellow’s haggard face and wild, appealing 
eyes. And after Gardner Canal, there is not another on 
the route more beautiful than this! ” 

Two inlets open into Grenville Channel on the starboard 
going north, Lowe and Klewnuggit, — both affording safe 
anchorage to vessels in trouble. Pitt Island forms almost 
the entire western shore — a beautifully wooded one — 
of the channel. There is a salmon cannery in Lowe Inlet, 
beside a clear stream which leaps down from a lake in the 
mountains. The waters and shores of Grenville have a 
clear, washed green, which is springlike. In many of 
the other narrow ways the waters are blue, or purple, or a 
pale blue-gray; but here they suddenly lead you along 
the palest of green, shimmering avenues, while mountains 
of many-shaded green rise steeply on both sides, glimmer¬ 
ing away into drifts of snow, which drop threads of silver 
down the sheer heights. 

This shaded green of the mountains is a feature of Alas- 

D 


34 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


kan landscapes. Great landslides and windfalls cleave 
their way from summit to sea, mowing down the forests 
in their path. In time the new growth springs up and 
streaks the mountain side with lighter green. 

Probably one-half of the trees in southeastern Alaska 
are the Menzies spruce, or Sitka pine. Their needles are 
sharp and of a bluish green. 

The Menzies spruce was named for the Scotch botanist 
who accompanied Vancouver. 

The Alaska cedar is yellowish and lacy in appearance, 
with a graceful droop to the branches. It grows to an 
average height of one hundred and fifty feet. Its wood 
is very valuable. 

Arbor-vitee grows about the glaciers and in cool, dim 
fiords. Birch, alder, maple, cottonwood, broom, and 
hemlock-spruce are plentiful, but are of small value, save 
in the cause of beauty. 

The Menzies spruce attains its largest growth in the 
Alexander Archipelago, but ranges as far south as Cali¬ 
fornia. The Douglas fir is not so abundant as it is farther 
south, nor does it grow to such great size. 

The Alaska cedar is the most prized of all the cedars. 
It is in great demand for ship-building, interior finishing, 
cabinet-making, and other fine work, because of its close 
texture, durable quality, and aromatic odor, which some¬ 
what resembles that of sandalwood. In early years it 
was shipped to Japan, where it was made into fancy boxes 
and fans, which were sold under guise of that scented 
Oriental wood. Its lasting qualities are remarkable — 
sills having been found in perfect preservation after sixty 
years’ use in a wet climate. Its pleasant odor is as endur¬ 
ing as the wood. The long, slender, pendulous fruits 
which hang from the branches in season, give the tree a 
peculiarly graceful and appealing appearance. 

The western white pine is used for interior work. It 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


85 


is a magnificent tree, as seen in the forest, having bluish 
green fronds and cones a foot long. 

The giant arbor-vitse attains its greatest size close to 
the coast. The wood splits easily and makes durable 
shingles. It takes a brilliant polish and is popular for 
interior finishing. Its beauty of growth is well known. 

Wherever there is sufficient rainfall, the fine-fronded 
hemlock may be found tracing its lacelike outlines upon 
the atmosphere. There is no evergreen so delicately 
lovely as the hemlock, it stands apart, with a little air 
of its own, as a fastidious small maid might draw her 
skirts about her when common ones pass by. 

The spruces, firs, and cedars grow so closely together 
that at a distance they appear as a solid wall of shaded 
green, varying from the lightest beryl tints, on through 
bluish grays to the most vivid and dazzling emerald tones. 
At a distance canyons and vast gulches are filled so softly 
and so solidly that they can scarcely be detected, the trees 
on the crests of the nearer hills blending into those above, 
and concealing the deep spaces that sink between. 

These forests have no tap-roots. Their roots spread 
widely upon a thin layer of soil covering solid stone in 
many cases, and more likely than not this soil is created 
in the first place by the accumulation of parent needles. 
Trees spring up in crevices of stone where a bit of sand 
has sifted, grow, fruit, and shed their needles, and thrive 
upon them. The undergrowth is so solid that one must 
cut one’s way through it, and the progress of surveyors or 
prospectors is necessarily slow and difficult. 

These forests are constantly drenched in the warm 
mists precipitated by the Ivuro Siwo striking upon the 
snow, and in this quickening moisture they reach a bril¬ 
liancy of coloring that is remarkable. At sunset, thread¬ 
ing these narrow channels, one may see mountain upon 
mountain climbing up to crests of snow, their lower 


36 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


wooded slopes covered with mists in palest blue and old 
rose tones, through which the tips of the trees, crowded 
close together, shine out in brilliant, many-shaded greens. 

After Arthur Passage is that of Malacca, which is dotted 
by several islands. “ Lawyer’s,” to starboard, bears a red 
light ; “ Lucy,” to port, farther north, a fixed white light. 
Directly opposite “ Lucy ” — who does not rival “ Sarah,” 
or who in the pilot’s words “ has nothing about her ” — is 
old Metlakahtla. 

























































































* 




































































CHAPTER III 


The famous ukase of 1821 was issued by the Russian 
Emperor on the expiration of the twenty-year charter of 
the Russian-American Company. It prohibited “ to all 
foreign vessels not only to land on the coasts and islands 
belonging to Russia, as stated above” (including the 
whole of the northwest coast of America, beginning from 
Behring Strait to the fifty-first degree of northern lati¬ 
tude, also from the Aleutian Islands to the eastern coast of 
Siberia, as well as along the Kurile Islands from Behring 
Strait to the south cape of the Island of Urup) “ but also to 
approach them within less than one hundred miles.” 

After the Nootka Convention in 1790, the Northwest 
Coast was open to free settlement and trade by the people 
of any country. It was claimed by the Russians to the 
Columbia, afterward to the northern end of Vancouver 
Island ; by the British, from the Columbia to the fifty- 
fifth degree; and by the United States, from the Rocky 
Mountains to the Pacific, between Forty-two and Fifty- 
four, Forty. By the treaty of 1819, by which Florida 
was ceded to us by Spain, the United States acquired all 
of Spanish rights and claims on the coast north of the 
forty-second degree. By its trading posts and regular trad¬ 
ing vessels, the United States was actually in possession. 

By treaty with the United States in 1824, and with 
Great Britain in 1825, Russia, realizing her mistake in 
issuing the ukase of 1821, agreed to Fifty-four, Forty as 
the limit of her possessions to southward. Of the interior 

37 



38 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


regions, Russia claimed the Yukon region ; England, that 
of the Mackenzie and the country between Hudson Bay 
and the Rocky Mountains; the United States, all west of 
the Rockies, north of Forty-two. 

The year previous to the one in which the United 
States acquired Florida and all Spanish rights on the 
Pacific Coast north of Forty-two, the United States and 
England had agreed to a joint occupation of the region. 
In 1828 this was indefinitely extended, but with the 
emigration to Oregon in the early forties, this country 
demanded a settlement of the boundary question. 

President Tyler, in his message to Congress in 1843, 
declared that “the United States rights appertain to all 
between forty-two degrees and fifty-four degrees and 
forty minutes. ” 

The leading Democrats of the South were at that time 
advocating the annexation of Texas. Mr. Calhoun was 
an ardent champion of the cause, and was endeavoring to 
effect a settlement with the British minister, offering the 
forty-ninth parallel as a compromise on the boundary 
dispute, in his eagerness to acquire Texas without danger 
of interference. 

The compromise was declined by the British minister. 

In 1844 slave interests defeated Mr. Van Buren in his 
aspirations to the presidency. Mr. Clay was nominated 
instead. The latter opposed the annexation of Texas and 
advised caution and compromise in the Oregon question; 
but the Democrats nominated Polk and under the war-cry 
of “Fifty-four, Forty, or Fight,” bore him on to victory. 
The convention which nominated him advocated the 
reannexation of Texas and the reoccupation of Oregon ; 
the two significant words being used to make it clear that 
Texas had belonged to us before, through the Louisiana 
purchase ; and Oregon, before the treaty of joint occupa¬ 
tion with Great Britain. 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


39 


President Polk, in his message, declared that, “ beyond 
all question, the protection of our laws and our jurisdic¬ 
tion, civil and criminal, ought to be immediately extended 
over our citizens in Oregon.” 

He quoted from the convention which had nominated 
him that “ our title to the country of Oregon as far as 
Fifty-four, Forty, is clear and unquestionable ; ” and he 
boldly declared “for all of Oregon or none.” 

John Quincy Adams eloquently supported our title to 
the country to the line of Fifty-four, Forty in a powerful 
speech in the House of Representatives. 

Yet it soon became apparent that both the Texas policy 
and the Oregon question could not be successfully carried 
out during the administration. “Fifty-four, Forty, or 
Fight ” as a watchword in a presidential campaign was 
one thing, but as a challenge to fight flung in the face 
of Great Britain, it was quite another. 

In February, 1846, the House declared in favor of giv¬ 
ing notice to Great Britain that the joint occupancy of 
the Oregon country must cease. The Senate, realizing 
that this resolution was practically a declaration of war, 
declined to adopt it, after a very bitter and fiery con¬ 
troversy. 

Those who retreated from their first position on the 
question were hotly denounced by Senator Hannegan, the 
Democratic senator from Indiana. He boldly attacked 
the motives which led to their retreat, and angrily ex¬ 
claimed : — 

“ If Oregon were good for the production of sugar and 
cotton, it would not have encountered this opposition.” 

The resolution was almost unanimously opposed by the 
Whig senators. Mr. Webster, while avoiding the point 
of our actual rights in the matter, urged that a settle¬ 
ment on the line of the forty-ninth parallel be recom¬ 
mended, as permitting both countries to compromise with 


40 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


dignity and honor. The resolution that was finally passed 
by the Senate and afterward by the House, authorized 
the president to give notice at his discretion to Great 
Britain that the treaty should be terminated, “ in order 
that the attention of the governments of both countries 
may be the more earnestly directed to the adoption of 
all proper measures for a speedy and amicable adjustment 
of the differences and disputes in regard to said territory.” 

Forever to their honor be it remembered that a few of 
the Southern Democrats refused to retreat from their first 
position — among them, Stephen A. Douglas. Senator 
Hannegan reproached his party for breaking the pledges 
oh which it had marched to victory. 

The passage of the milk-and-water resolution restored 
to the timid of the country a feeling of relief and security; 
but to the others, and to the generations to come after 
them, helpless anger and undying shame. 

The country yielded was ours. We gave it up solely 
because to retain it we must fight, and we were not in a 
position at that time to fight Great Britain. 

When the Oregon Treaty, as it was called, was con¬ 
cluded by Secretary Buchanan and Minister Pakenham, 
we lost the splendid country now known as British 
Columbia, which, after our purchase of Alaska from Rus¬ 
sia, would have given us an unbroken frontage on the 
Pacific Ocean from Southern California to Behring Strait, 
and almost to the mouth of the Mackenzie River on the 
Frozen Ocean. 

Many reasons have been assigned by historians for the 
retreat of the Southern Democrats from their former bold 
and flaunting position; but in the end the simple truth 
will be admitted — that they might brag, but were not in 
a position to fight. They were like Lieutenant Whidbey, 
whom Vancouver sent out to explore Lynn Canal in a 
small boat. Mr. Whidbey was ever ready and eager, when 






























































Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau 


Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

A Phantom Ship 








ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


41 


he deemed it necessary, to fire upon a small party of 
Indians ; but when they met him, full front, in formidable 
numbers and with couched spears, he instantly fell into 
a panic and deemed it more “ humane ” to avoid a conflict 
with those poor, ignorant people. 

The Southern Democrats who betrayed their country 
in 1846 were the Whidbeys of the United States. For 
no better reason than that of “humanity,” they gave 
nearly four hundred thousand square miles of magnificent 
country to Great Britain. 

Another problem in this famous boundary settlement 
question has interested American historians for sixty 
years : Why England yielded so much valuable territory to 
the United States, after protecting what she claimed as her 
rights so boldly and so unflinchingly for so many years. 

Professor Schafer, the head of the Department of 
American History at the University of Oregon, claims to 
have recently found indisputable proof in the records of 
the British Foreign Office and those of the old Hudson’s 
Bay Company, in London, that the abandonment of the 
British claim was influenced by the presence of American 
pioneers who had pushed across the continent and settled 
in the disputed territory, bringing their families and 
founding homes in the wilderness. 

England knew, in her heart, that the whole disputed 
territory was ours ; and as our claims were strengthened 
by settlement, she was sufficiently far-sighted to be glad 
to compromise at that time. If the Oregon Treaty had 
been delayed for a few years, British Columbia would 
now be ours. Proofs which strengthen our claim were 
found in the winter of 1907—1908 in the archives of Sitka. 

There would be more justice in our laying claim to 
British Columbia now, than there was in the claims of 
Great Britain in the famous lisiere matter which was 
settled in 1903. 


42 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


By the treaties of 1824, between Russia and the 
United States, and of 1825, between Russia and Great 
Britain, the limits of Russian possessions are thus defined, 
and upon our purchase of Alaska from Russia, were 
repeated in the Treaty of Washington in 1867: — 

“Commencing from the southernmost point of the 
island called Prince of Wales Island, which point lies in 
the parallel of fifty-four degrees and forty minutes north 
latitude, and between the one hundred and thirty-first and 
the one hundred and thirty-third degree of west longi¬ 
tude (meridian of Greenwich), the said line shall ascend 
to the North along the channel called Portland Channel, 
as far as the point of the continent where it strikes the 
fifty-sixth degree of north latitude ; from this last men¬ 
tioned point, the line of demarcation shall follow the 
summit of the mountains situated parallel to the coast as 
far as the point of intersection of the one hundred and 
forty-first degree of west longitude (of the same merid¬ 
ian) ; and finally, from the said point of intersection, 
the said meridian line of the one hundred and forty-first 
degree, in its prolongation as far as the Frozen Ocean, 
shall form the limit between the Russian and British pos¬ 
sessions on the Continent of America to the northwest. 

“ With reference to the line of demarcation laid down 
in the preceding article, it is understood: — 

“First, That the island called Prince of Wales Island 
shall belong wholly to Russia. 

“ Second, That whenever the summit of the mountains 
which extend parallel to the coast from the fifty-sixth 
degree of north latitude to the point of intersection of 
the one hundred and forty-first degree of west longitude 
shall prove to be at the distance of more than ten marine 
leagues from the ocean, the limit between the British 
possessions and the line of coast which is to belong to 
Russia as above mentioned shall be formed by a line 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


43 


parallel to the windings of the coast, and which shall 
never exceed the distance of ten marine leagues there¬ 
from. 

“The western limit within which the territories and 
dominion conveyed are contained, passes through a point 
in Behring Strait on the parallel of sixty-five degrees, 
thirty minutes, north latitude, at its intersection by the 
meridian which passes midway between the islands of 
Krusenstern, or Ignalook, and the island of Ratmanoff, 
or Noonarbook, and proceeds due north, without limita¬ 
tion, into the same Frozen Ocean. The same western 
limit, beginning at the same initial point, proceeds thence 
in a course nearly southwest, through Behring Strait 
and Behring Sea, so as to pass midway between the 
northwest point of the island of St. Lawrence and the 
southeast point of Cape Choukotski, to the meridian of 
one hundred and seventy-two west longitude; thence, 
from the intersection of that meridian in a southwesterly 
direction, so as to pass midway between the island of 
Attou and the Copper Island of the Kormandorski coup¬ 
let or group in the North Pacific Ocean, to the meridian 
of one hundred and ninety-three degrees west longitude, 
so as to include in the territory conveyed the whole of the 
Aleutian Islands east of that meridian.” 

In the cession was included the right of property in all 
public lots and squares, vacant lands, and all public build¬ 
ings, fortifications, barracks, and other edifices, which were 
not private individual property. It was, however, under¬ 
stood and agreed that the churches which had been built 
in the ceded territory by the Russian government should 
remain the property of such members of the Greek Orien¬ 
tal Church resident in the territory as might choose to 
worship therein. All government archives, papers, and 
documents relative to the territory and dominion afore¬ 
said which were existing there at the time of transfer 


44 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


were left in possession of the agent of the United States; 
with the understanding that the Russian government or 
any Russian subject may at any time secure an authenti¬ 
cated copy thereof. 

The inhabitants of the territory were given their choice 
of returning to Russia within three years, or remaining 
in the territory and being admitted to the enjoyment of 
all rights, advantages, and immunities of citizens of the 
United States, protected in the free enjoyment of their 
liberty, property, and religion. 

It must be confessed with chagrin that very few Rus¬ 
sians availed themselves of this opportunity to free them¬ 
selves from the supposed oppression of their government, 
to unite with the vaunted glories of ours. 

Before 1825, Great Britain, Spain, Portugal, and the 
United States had no rights of occupation and assertion 
on the Northwest Coast. Different nations had “planted 
bottles ” and “ taken possession ” wherever their explorers 
had chanced to land, frequently ignoring the same cere¬ 
mony on the part of previous explorers; but these for¬ 
malities did not weigh against the rights of discovery and 
actual occupation by Russia — else Spain’s rights would 
have been prior to Great Britain’s. 

Between the years of 1542 and 1774 Spanish explorers 
had examined and traced the western coast of America as 
far north as fifty-four degrees and forty minutes, Perez 
having reached that latitude in 1774, discovering Queen 
Charlotte Islands on the 16th of June, and Nootka Sound 
on the 9th of August. 

Although he did not land, he had friendly relations 
with the natives, who surrounded his ship, singing and 
scattering white feathers as a beautiful token of peace. 
They traded dried fish, furs, and ornaments of their own 
making for knives and old iron; and two, at least, 
boarded the ship. 


ALA SKA: THE GEEAT COUNTEY 


45 


Perez named the northernmost point of Queen Charlotte 
Islands Point Santa Margarita. 

Proceeding south, he made a landfall and anchored in 
a roadstead in forty-nine degrees and thirty minutes, 
which he called San Lorenzo — afterward the famous 
Nootka of Vancouver Island. He also discovered the 
beautiful white mountain which dignifies the entrance to 
Puget Sound, and named it Santa Rosalia. It was 
renamed Mount Olympus fourteen years later by John 
Meares. 

This was the first discovery of the Northwest Coast, 
and when Cook and Vancouver came, it was to find that 
the Spanish had preceded them. 

Not content with occupying the splendid possessions 
of the United States through the not famous, but 
infamous, Oregon Treaty, Canada, upon the discovery of 
gold in the Cassiar district of British Columbia, brought 
up the question of the lisiere , or thirty-mile strip. This 
was the strip of land, “not exceeding ten marine leagues 
in width,” which bordered the coast from the southern 
limit of Russian territory at Portland Canal (now the 
southern boundary of Alaska) to the vicinity of Mount 
St. Elias. The purpose of this strip was stated by the 
Russian negotiations to be “ the establishment of a barrier 
at which would be stopped, once for all, to the North as to 
the West of the coast allotted to our American Company, 
the encroachments of the English agents of the Amalga¬ 
mated Hudson Bay and Northwest English Company.” 

In 1824, upon the proposal of Sir'Charles Bagot to 
assign to Russia a strip with the uniform width of ten 
marine leagues from the shore, limited on the south by a 
line between thirty and forty miles north from the north¬ 
ern end of the Portland Canal, the Russian Plenipoten¬ 
tiaries replied: — 

“ The motive which caused the adoption of the principle 


46 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


of mutual expediency to be proposed, and the most impor¬ 
tant advantage of this principle, is to prevent the respec¬ 
tive establishments on the Northwest Coast from injuring 
each other and entering into collision. 

“ The English establishments of the Hudson Bay and 
Northwest companies have a tendency to advance west¬ 
ward along the fifty-third and fifty-fourth degrees of 
north latitude. 

“The Russian establishments of the American Com¬ 
pany have a tendency to descend southward toward the 
fifty-fifth parallel and beyond; for it should be noted that, 
if the American Company has not yet made permanent 
establishments on the mathematical line of the fifty-fifth 
degree, it is nevertheless true that by virtue of its privi¬ 
lege of 1799, against which privilege no power has ever 
protested, it is exploiting the hunting and the fishing in 
these regions, and that it regularly occupies the islands 
and the neighboring coasts during the season, which 
allows it to send its hunters and fishermen there. 

“ It was, then, to the mutual advantage of the two 
Empires to assign just limits to this advance on both 
sides, which, in time, could not fail to cause most unfor¬ 
tunate complications. 

“ It was also to their mutual advantage to fix their 
limits according to natural partitions, which always con¬ 
stitute the most distinct and certain frontiers. 

“ For these reasons the Plenipotentiaries of Russia have 
proposed as limits upon the coast of the continent, to the 
South, Portland Channel, the head of which lies about 
(par) the fifty-sixth degree of north latitude, and to the 
East, the chain of mountains which follows at a very short 
distance the sinuosities of the coast.” 

Sir Charles Bagot urged the line proposed by himself 
and offered, on the part of Great Britain, to include the 
Prince of Wales Island within the Russian line. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


47 


Russia, however, insisted upon having her lisiere run 
to the Portland Canal, declaring that the possession of 
Wales Island, without a slice (portion) of territory upon 
the coast situated in front of that island, could be of 
no utility whatever to Russia; that any establishment 
formed upon said island, or upon the surrounding islands, 
would find itself, as it were, flanked by the English 
establishments on the mainland, and completely at the 
mercy of these latter. 

England finally yielded to the Russian demand that the 
lisiere should extend to the Portland Canal. 

The claim that the Canadian government put forth, 
after the discovery of gold had made it important that 
Canada should secure a short line of traffic between the 
northern interior and the ocean, was that the wording of 
certain parts of the treaty of 1825 had been wrongly in¬ 
terpreted. The Canadians insisted that it was not the 
meaning nor the intention of the Convention of 1825 that 
there should remain in the exclusive possession of Russia 
a continuous fringe, or strip — the lisiere — of coast, sep¬ 
arating the British possessions from the bays, ports, inlets, 
havens, and waters of the ocean. 

Or, if it should be decided that this was the meaning 
of the treaty, they maintained that the width of the lisiere 
was to be measured from the line of the general direction 
of the mainland coast, and not from the heads of the many 
inlets. 

They claimed, also, that the broad and beautiful “ Port¬ 
land’s Canal” of Vancouver and the “Portland Channel” 
of the Convention of 1825, were the Pearse Channel or 
Inlet of more recent times. This contention, if sustained, 
would give them our Wales and Pearse islands. 

It was early suspected, however, that this claim was 
only made that they might have something to yield when, 
as they hoped, their later claim to Pyramid Harbor and 


48 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


tlie valley of the Chilkaht River should be made and 
upheld. This would give them a clear route into the 
Klondike territory. 

In 1898 a Joint High Commission was appointed for 
the consideration of Pelagic Fur Sealing, Commercial 
Reciprocity, and the Alaska Boundary. The Commission 
met in Quebec. The discussion upon the boundary con¬ 
tinued for several months, the members being unable to 
agree upon the meaning of the wording of the treaty of 
1825. 

The British and Canadian members, thereupon, un- 
blushingly proposed that the United States should cede to 
Canada Pyramid Harbor and a strip of land through the 
entire width of the lisiere. 

To Americans who know that part of our country, this 
proposal came as a shock. Pyramid Harbor is the best 
harbor in that vicinity; and its cession, accompanied by a 
highway through the lisiere to British possessions, would 
have given Canada the most desirable route at that time 
to the Yukon and the Klondike — the rivers upon which 
the eyes of all nations were at that time set. Many 
routes into that rich and picturesque region had been 
tested, but no other had proved so satisfactory. 

It has since developed that the Skaguay route is the 
real prize. Had Canada foreseen this, she would not have 
hesitated to demand it. 

From the disagreement of the Joint High Commission 
of 1898 arose the modus vivendi of the following year. 
There has been a very general opinion that the temporary 
boundary points around the heads of the inlets at the 
northern end of Lynn Canal, laid down in that year, were 
fixed for all time — although it seems impossible that this 
opinion could be held by any one knowing the definition of 
the term “modus vivendi.” 

By the modus vivendi Canada was given temporary 



i 


Copyright by A. Hegg t Juneau Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

Road through Cut-off Canyon 































































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


49 


possession of valuable Chilkaht territory, and her new 
maps were made accordingly. 

In 1903 a tribunal composed of three American mem¬ 
bers and three representing Great Britain, two of whom 
were Canadians, met in Great Britain, to settle certain 
questions relating to the lisiere. 

The seven large volumes covering the arguments and 
decisions of this tribunal, as published by the United 
States government, make intensely interesting and valua¬ 
ble reading to one who cares for Alaska. 

The majority of the tribunal, that is to say, Lord 
Alverstone and the three members from the United States, 
decided that the Canadians have no rights to the waters of 
any of the inlets, and that it was the meaning of the Con¬ 
vention of 1825 that the lisiere should for all time separate 
the British possessions from the bays, ports, inlets, and 
waters of the ocean north of British Columbia; and that, 
furthermore, the width of the lisiere was not to be meas¬ 
ured from the line of the general direction of the mainland 
coast, leaping the bays and inlets, but from a line running 
around the heads of such indentations. 

The tribunal, however, awarded Pearse and Wales 
islands, which belonged to us, to Canada; it also nar¬ 
rowed the lisiere in several important points, notably on 
the Stikine and Taku rivers. 

The fifth question, however, was the vital one; and it 
was answered in our favor, the two Canadian members dis¬ 
senting. The boundary lines have now been changed on 
both United States and Canadian maps, in conformity with 
the decisions of the tribunal. 

Blaine, Bancroft, and Davidson have made the clearest 
statements of the boundary troubles. 


E 


CHAPTER IV 


The first landing made by United States boats after 
leaving Seattle is at Ketchikan. This is a comparatively 
new town. It is seven hundred miles from Seattle, and is 
reached early on the third morning out. It is the first 
town in Alaska, and glistens white and new on its gentle 
hills soon after crossing the boundary line in Dixon 
Entrance —which is always saluted by the lifting of hats 
and the waving of handkerchiefs on the part of patriotic 
Americans. 

Ketchikan has a population of fifteen hundred people. 
It is the distributing point for the mines and fisheries of 
this section of southeastern Alaska. It is the present port 
of entry, and the Customs Office adds to the dignity of the 
town. There is a good court-house, a saw-mill with a 
capacity of twenty-five thousand feet daily, a shingle mill, 
salmon canneries, machine shops, a good water system, a 
cold storage plant, two excellent hotels, good schools and 
churches, a progressive newspaper, several large wharves, 
modern and well-stocked stores and shops, and a sufficient 
number of saloons. The town is lighted by electricity 
and many of the buildings are heated by steam. A cred¬ 
itable chamber of commerce is maintained. 

There are seven salmon canneries in operation which 
are tributary to Ketchikan. The most important one 
“ mild-cures ” fish for the German market. 

Among the “ shipping ” mines, which are within a radius 
of fifty miles, and which receive mails and supplies from 

50 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


51 


Ketchikan, are the Mount Andrews, the Stevenston, the 
Mamies, the Russian Brown, the Hydah, the Niblack, and 
the Sulzer. From fifteen to twenty prospects are under 
development. 

There are smelters in operation at Hadley and Copper 
Mountain, on Prince of Wales Island. From Ketchikan 
to all points in the mining and fishing districts safe and 
commodious steamers are regularly operated. The chief 
mining industries are silver, copper, and gold. 

The residences are for the most part small, but, climb¬ 
ing by green terraces over the hill and surrounded by 
flowers and neat lawns, they impart an air of picturesque¬ 
ness to the town. There are several totem-poles; the 
handsomest was erected to the memory of Chief “ Captain 
John,” by his nephew, at the entrance to the house now 
occupied by the latter. The nephew asserts that he paid 
$2060 for the carving and making of the totem. Owing to 
its freshly painted and gaudy appearance, it is as lacking in 
interest as the one which stands in Pioneer Square, Seattle, 
and which was raped from a northern Indian village. 

Four times had I landed at Ketchikan on my way to far 
beautiful places; with many people had I talked concern¬ 
ing the place; folders of steamship companies and pam¬ 
phlets of boards of trade had I read ; yet never from any 
person nor from any printed page had I received the faint¬ 
est glimmer that this busy, commercially described north¬ 
western town held, almost in its heart, one of the enduring 
and priceless jewels of Alaska. To the beauty-loving, 
Norwegian captain of the steamship Jefferson was I at last 
indebted for one of the real delights of my life. 

It was near the middle of a July night, and raining 
heavily, when the captain said to us: — 

“ Be ready on the stroke of seven in the morning, and 
I’ll show you one of the beautiful things of Alaska.” 


52 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


“ But — at Ketchikan, captain ! ” 

‘•‘Yes, at Ketchikan.” 

I thought of all the vaunted attractions of Ketchikan 
which had ever been brought to my observation; and I 
felt that at seven o’clock in the morning, in a pouring 
rain, I could live without every one of them. Then — the 
charm of a warm berth in a gray hour, the cup of hot 
coffee, the last dream to the drowsy throb of the steamer — 

“ It will be raining, captain,” one said, feebly. 

The look of disgust that went across his expressive face! 

“ What if it is ! You won’t know it’s raining as soon as 
you get your eyes filled with what I want to show you. 
But if you’re one of that kind — ” 

He made a gesture of dismissal with his hands, palms 
outward, and turned away. 

“ Captain, I shall be ready at seven. I’m not one of 
that kind,” we all cried together. 

“ All right; but I won’t wait five minutes. There’ll be 
two hundred passengers waiting to go.” 

“You know that letter that Thomas Bailey Aldrich 
wrote to Professor Morse,” spoke up a lady from Boston, 
who had overheard. “ You know Professor Morse wrote 
a hand that couldn’t be deciphered, and among other things, 
Mr. Aldrich wrote: ‘ There’s a singular and perpetual 
charm in a letter of yours ; it never grows old; it never 
loses its novelty. One can say to one’s self every day: 
“ There’s that letter of Morse’s. I have not read it yet. 
I think I shall take another shy at it.” Other letters are 
read and thrown away and forgotten; but yours are kept for¬ 
ever — unread! ’ Now, that letter, somehow, in the vaguest 
kind of way, suggests itself when one considers this getting 
up anywhere from three to six in the morning to see things 
in Alaska. There’s always something to be seen during 
these unearthly hours. Every night we are convinced 
that we will be on deck early, to see something, and we 





























































































































































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


53 


leave an order to be wakened; but when the dreaded 
knocking comes upon the door, and a hoarse voice an¬ 
nounces 4 Wrangell Narrows,’ or 4 Lama Pass,’ our berths 
suddenly take on curves and attractions they possess at no 
other time. The side-rails into which we have been 
bumping seem to be cushioned with down, the space 
between berths to grow wider, the air in the room sweeter 
and more drowsily delicious. We say, 4 Oh, we’ll get up 
to-morrow morning and see something,’ and we pull the 
berth-curtain down past our faces and go to sleep. After 
a while, it grows to be one of the perpetual charms of a 
trip to Alaska — this always going to get up in the morn¬ 
ing and this never getting up. It never grows old ; it 
never loses its novelty. One can say to one’s self every 
morning: 4 There’s that little matter to decide now about 
getting up. Shall I, or shall I not ? ’ I have been to 
Alaska three times, but I’ve never seen Ketchikan. Other 
places are seen and admired and forgotten ; but it remains 
forever — unseen. . . . Now, I’ll go and give an order to 
be called at half-past six, to see this wonderful thing at 
Ketchikan ! ” 

I looked around for her as I went down the slushy deck 
the next morning on the stroke of seven; but she was not 
in sight. It was raining heavily and steadily — a cold, 
thick rain; the wind was so strong and so changeful that 
an umbrella could scarcely be held. 

Alas for the captain ! Out of his boasted two hundred 
passengers, there came forth, dripping and suspicious¬ 
eyed, openly scenting a joke, only four women and one 
man. But the captain was undaunted. He would listen 
to no remonstrances. 

44 Come on, now,” he cried, cheerfully, leading the way. 
44 You told me you came to Alaska to see things, and as 
long as you travel with me, you are going to see all that 
is worth seeing. Let the others sleep. Anybody can 


54 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


sleep. You can sleep at home ; but you can’t see what I 
am going to show you now anywhere but in Alaska. Do 
you suppose I would get up at this hour and waste my 
time on you, if I didn’t know you’d thank me for it all the 
rest of your life ? ” 

So on and on we went; up one street and down another ; 
around sharp corners; past totem-poles, saloons, stylish 
shops, windows piled with Indian baskets and carvings ; 
up steps and down terraces; along gravelled roads; and 
at last, across a little bridge, around a wooded curve,—and 
then — 

Something met us face to face. I shall always believe 
that it was the very spirit of the woods that went past us, 
laughing and saluting, suddenly startled from her morning 
bath in the clear, amber-brown stream that came foaming 
musically down over smooth stones from the moun¬ 
tains. 

It was so sudden, so unexpected. One moment, we 
were in the little northern fishing- and mining-town, which 
sits by the sea, trumpeting its commercial glories to the 
world ; the next, we were in the forest, and under the 
spell of this wild, sweet thing that fled past us, returned, 
and lured us on. 

For three miles we followed the mocking call of the 
spirit of the brown stream. Her breath was as sweet as 
the breath of wild roses covered with dew. Never in the 
woods have I been so impressed, so startled, with the feeh 
ing that a living thing was calling me. 

We could find no words to express our delight as we 
climbed the path beside the brown stream, whose waters 
came laughingly down through a deep, dim gorge. They 
fell sheer in sparkling cataracts; they widened into thin, 
singing shallows of palest amber, clinking against the 
stones; narrow and foaming, they wound in and out 
among the trees ; they disappeared completely under wide 


ALASKA: TEE GREAT COUNTRY 


55 


sprays of ferns and the flat, spreading branches of trees, 
only to “ make a sudden sally ” farther down. 

At first we were level with them, walked beside them, 
and paused to watch the golden gleams in their clear 
depths ; but gradually we climbed, until we were hundreds 
of feet above them. 

Down in those purple shadows they went romping on to 
the sea ; sometimes only a flash told us where they curved ; 
other times, they pushed out into open spaces, and made 
pause in deep pools, where they whirled and eddied for a 
moment before drawing together and hurrying on. But 
always and everywhere the music of their wild, sweet, 
childish laughter floated up to us. 

In the dim light of early morning the fine mist of the 
rain sinking through the gorge took on tones of lavender 
and purple. The tall trees climbing through it seemed 
even more beautiful than they really were, by the touch 
of mystery lent by the rain. 

I wish that Max Nonnenbruch, who painted the adorable, 
compelling “Bride of the Wind,” might paint the elfish 
sprite that dwells in the gorge at Ketchikan. He, and he 
alone, could paint her so that one could hear her impish 
laughter, and her mocking, fluting call. 

The name of the stream I shall never tell. Only an 
unimaginative modern Vancouver or Cook could have 
bestowed upon it the name that burdens it to-day. Let 
it be the “ brown stream ” at Ketchikan. 

If the people of the town be wise, they will gather this 
gorge to themselves while they may; treasure it, cherish 
it, and keep it “ unspotted from the world ” — yet for the 
world. 

Metlakahtla means “the channel open at both ends.” 
It was here that Mr. William Duncan came in 1857, from 
England, as a lay worker for the Church Mission Society. 


56 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


It had been represented that existing conditions among 
the natives sorely demanded high-minded missionary work. 
The savages at Fort Simpson were considered the worst 
on the coast at that time, and he was urged not to locate 
there. Undaunted, however, Mr. Duncan, who was then 
a very young man, filled with the fire and zeal of one who 
has not known failure, chose this very spot in which to 
begin his work — among Indians so low in the scale of 
human intelligence that they had even been accused of 
cannibalism. 

Port Simpson was then an important trading-post of the 
Hudson Bay Company. It had been established in the 
early thirties about forty miles up Nass River, but a few 
years later was removed to a point on the Tsimpsian Penin¬ 
sula. In 1841 Sir George Simpson found about fourteen 
thousand Indians, of various tribes, living there. He 
found them “peculiarly comely, strong, and well-grown 
. . . remarkably clever and ingenious.” 

They carved neatly in stone, wood, and ivory. Sir 
George Simpson relates with horror that the savages fre¬ 
quently ate the dead bodies of their relatives, some of 
whom had died of smallpox, even after they had become 
putrid. They were horribly diseased in other ways ; and 
many had lost their eyes through the ravages of smallpox 
or other disease. They fought fiercely and turbulently 
with other tribes. 

Such were the Indians among whom Mr. Duncan chose 
to work. He was peculiarly fitted for this work, being 
possessed of certain unusual qualities and attributes of 
character which make for success. 

The unselfishness and integrity of his nature made 
themselves visible in his handsome face, and particularly 
in the direct gaze of his large and intensely earnest blue 
eyes; his manners were simple, and his air was one of 
quiet command; he had unfailing cheerfulness, faith, and 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


57 


that quality which struggles on under the heaviest dis¬ 
couragement with no thought of giving up. 

His word was as good as his bond; his energy and 
enthusiasm were untiring, and he never attempted to 
work his Indians harder than he himself worked. The 
entire absence of that trait which seeks self-praise or self¬ 
glory, — in fact, his absolute self-effacement, his devotion 
of self and self-interest to others, and to hard and humble 
work for others, — all these high and noble parts of an 
unusual and lovable character, added to a most winning 
and attractive personality, gradually won for young Will¬ 
iam Duncan the almost Utopian success which many others 
in various parts of the world have so far worked for in 
vain. 

The Indians grew to trust his word, to believe in his 
sincerity and single-heartedness, to accept his teachings, 
to love him, and finally, and most reluctantly of all, to 
work for him. 

At first only fifty of the Tsimsheans, or Tsimpsians, 
accompanied him to the site of his first community settle¬ 
ment. Here the land was cleared and cultivated ; neat 
two-story cottages, a church, a schoolhouse, stores on the 
cooperative plan, a saw-mill, and a cannery, were erected 
by Mr. Duncan and the Indians. At first a corps of able 
assistants worked with Mr. Duncan, instructing the 
Indians in various industries and arts, until the young 
men were themselves able to carry along the different 
branches of work, — such as carpentry, shoemaking, 
cabinet building, tanning, rope-making, and boat building. 
The village band was instructed by a German, until one 
among them was qualified to become their band-master. 
The women were taught to cook, to sew, to keep house, to 
weave, and to care for the sick. 

Here was a model village, an Utopian community, an 
ideal life, — founded and carried on by the genius of one 


58 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


young, simple-hearted, high-minded, earnest, and self- 
devoted English gentleman. 

But William Duncan’s way, although strewn with the 
full sweet roses of success, was not without its bitter, 
stinging thorns. Mr. Duncan was not an ordained min¬ 
ister, and in 1881 it was decided by the Church of Eng¬ 
land authorities who had sent Mr. Duncan out, that his 
field should be formed into a separate diocese, and as this 
decision necessitated the residence of a bishop, Bishop 
Ridley was sent to the field — a man whose name will 
ever stand as a dark blot upon the otherwise clean page 
whereon is written the story which all men honor and all 
men praise — the story of the exalted life-work of William 
Duncan. 

Mr. Duncan, being a layman, had conducted services of 
the simplest nature, and had not considered it advisable 
to hold communion services which would be embarrassing 
of explanation to people so recently won from the customs 
of cannibalism. Bigoted and opinionated, and failing 
utterly to understand the Indians, to win their confidence, 
or to exercise patience with them, Bishop Ridley declined 
to be under the direction of a man who was not ordained, 
and criticised the form of service held by Mr. Duncan. 
The latter, having been in sole charge of his work for 
more than thirty years, and being conscious of its full and 
unusual results, chafed under the Bishop’s supervision and 
superintendence. 

In the meantime, seven other missions had been estab¬ 
lished at various stations in southeastern Alaska. The 
Bishop undertook to inaugurate communion services. 
This was strongly opposed by Mr. Duncan, and he was 
supported by the Indians, who were sincerely attached to 
him, the Society in England Sympathizing with the Bishop. 
Friction between the two was ceaseless and bitter, and 
continued until 1887. This has been given out as the 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


59 


cause of the withdrawal of Mr. Duncan to New Met- 
lakahtla; but his own people—graduates of Eastern 
universities—claim that it is not the true reason. He 
and his Indians had for some time desired to be under 
the laws of the United States, and in 1887 Mr. Duncan 
went to Washington City to negotiate with the United 
States for Annette Island. The Bishop established him¬ 
self in residence, but failed ignominiously to win the 
respect of the Indians. He quarrelled with them in the 
commonest way, struck them, went among them armed, 
and finally appealed to a man-of-war for protection from 
people whom he considered bloodthirsty savages. 

Mr. Duncan, having been successful in his mission to 
Washington, his faithful followers, during his absence, 
removed to Annette Island, and here he found on his 
return all but one hundred out of the original eight hun¬ 
dred which had composed his village on the Bishop’s 
arrival — the few having been persuaded to remain with 
the latter at Old Metlakahtla. Those who went to the 
new location on Annette were allowed by the Canadian 
government to take nothing but their personal property; 
all their houses, public buildings, and community interests 
being sacrificed to their devotion to William Duncan — 
and this is, perhaps, the highest, even though a wordless, 
tribute that this great man will, living or dead, ever 
receive. 

This story, brief and incomplete, of which we gather up 
the threads as best we may — for William Duncan dwells 
in this world to work, and not to talk about his work — 
is one of the most pathetic in history. When one con¬ 
siders the low degree of savagery from which they had 
struggled up in thirty years of hardest, and at times most 
discouraging, labor, to a degree of civilization which, in 
one respect, at least, is reached by few white people in 
centuries, if ever; when one considers how they had 


60 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


grown to a new faith and to a new form of religions 
services, to confidence in the possession of homes and 
other community property, and to believe their title to 
them to be enduring; when one considers the tenacity of 
an Indian’s attachment to his home and belongings, and 
his sorrowful and heart-breaking reluctance to part with 
them — this shadowy, silent migration through northern 
waters to a new home on an uncleared island, taking 
almost nothing with them but their religion and their 
love for Mr. Duncan, becomes one of the sublime tragedies 
of the century. 

On Annette Island, then, twenty years ago, Mr. Dun¬ 
can’s work was taken up anew. Homes were built; a saw¬ 
mill, schools, wharf, cannery, store, town hall, a neat 
cottage for Mr. Duncan, and finally, in 1895, the large 
and handsome church, rose in rapid succession out of the 
wilderness. Roads were built, and sidewalks. A trad¬ 
ing schooner soon plied the near-by waters. All was the 
work of the Indians under the direct supervision of Mr. 
Duncan, who, in 1870, had journeyed to England for the 
purpose of learning several simple trades which he might, 
in turn, teach to the Indians whom he fondly calls his 
“people.” Thus personally equipped, and with such 
implements and machinery as were required, he had 
returned to his work. 

To-day, at the end of twenty years, the voyager ap¬ 
proaching Annette Island, beholds rising before his rever¬ 
ent eyes the new Metlakalitla — the old having sunken to 
ruin, where it lies, a vanishing stain on the fair fame of 
the Church of England of the past; for the church of to¬ 
day is too broad and too enlightened to approve of the 
action of its Mission Society in regard to its most earnest 
and successful worker, William Duncan. 

The new town shines white against a dark hill. The 
steamer lands at a good wharf, which is largely occupied 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


61 


by salmon canneries. Sidewalks and neat gravelled paths 
lead to all parts of the village. The buildings are attrac¬ 
tive in their originality, for Mr. Duncan has his own ideas 
of architecture. The church, adorned with two large 
square towers, has a commanding situation, and is a 
modern, steam-heated building, large enough to seat a 
thousand people, or the entire village. It is of handsome 
interior finish in natural woods. Above the altar are the 
following passages : The angel said unto them: Fear not, for 
behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to 
all people. . . . Thou shalt call his name Jesus, for he shall 
save his people from their sins. 

The cottages are one and two stories in height, and are 
surrounded by vegetable and flower gardens, of which the 
women seem to be specially proud. They and the smil¬ 
ing children stand at their gates and on corners and offer 
for sale baskets and other articles of their own making. 
These baskets are, without exception, crudely and inar- 
tistically made; yet they have a value to collectors by 
having been woven at Metlakahtla by Mr. Duncan’s 
Indian women, and no tourist fails to purchase at least 
one, while many return to the steamer laden with 
them. 

There is a girls’ school and a boys’ school; a hotel, a 
town hall, several stores, a saw-mill, a system of water¬ 
works, a cannery capable of packing twenty thousand 
cases of salmon in a season, a wharf, and good warehouses 
and steam-vessels. 

The community is governed by a council of thirty 
members, having a president. There is a police force of 
twenty members. Taxes are levied for public improve¬ 
ments, and for the maintenance of public institutions. 
The land belongs to the community, from which it may 
be obtained by individuals for the purpose of building 
homes. The cannery and the saw-mill, which is operated 


62 


' ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


by water, belong to companies in which stock is held by 
Indians who receive dividends. The employees receive 
regular wages. 

The people seem happy and contented. They are 
deeply attached to Mr. Duncan, and very proud of their 
model town. They have an excellent band of twenty-one 
pieces, at the mere mention of which their dark faces take 
on an expression of pride and pleasure, and their black 
eyes shine into their questioner’s eyes with intense inter¬ 
est ; in fact, if one desires to steady the gaze and hold the 
attention of a Metlakahtla Indian, he can most readily 
accomplish his purpose by introducing the subject of the 
village band. 

It is a surprise that these Indians do not, generally, 
speak English more fluently; but this is coming with the 
younger generations. Some of these young men and 
young women have been graduated from Eastern colleges, 
and have returned to take up missionary work in various 
parts of Alaska. Meeting one of these young men on a 
steamer, I asked him if he knew Mr. Duncan. The smile 
of affection and pride that went across his face! “lam 
one of his boys,” he replied, simply. This was the Rev¬ 
erend Edward Marsden, who, returning from an Eastern 
college in 1898, began missionary work at Saxman, near 
Juneau, where he has been very successful. 

Mr. Duncan is exceedingly modest and unassuming in 
manner and bearing, seeming to shrink from personal at¬ 
tention, and to desire that his work shall speak for itself. 
He is frequently called “Father,” which is exceedingly 
distasteful to him. Visitors seeking information are wel¬ 
come to spend a week or two at the guest-house and learn 
by observation and by conversation with the people what 
has been accomplished in this ideal community; but, save 
on rare occasions, he cannot be persuaded to dwell upon 
his own work, and after he has given his reasons for this 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


63 


attitude, only a person lost to all sense of decency and 
delicacy would urge him to break his rule of silence. 

“I am here to work, and not to talk or write about my 
work,” he says, kindly and cordially. “ If I took the 
time to answer one-tenth of the questions I am asked, 
verbally and by letter, I would have no time left for my 
work, and my time for work is growing short. I am an 
old man,”—his beautiful, intensely blue eyes smiled as 
he said this, and he at once shook his wliite-crowned head, 
— “ that is what they are saying of me, but it is not 
true. I am young, I feel young, and have many more 
years of work ahead of me. Still, I must confess that I 
do not work so easily, and my cares are multiplying. 
Some to whom I make this explanation will not respect 
m}^ wishes or understand my silence. They press me by 
letter, or personally, to answer only this question or only 
that. They are inconsiderate and hamper me in my 
work.” 

Possibly this is the key-note to Mr. Duncan’s success. 
“Here is my work; let it speak for itself.” He has de¬ 
voted his whole life to his work, with no thought for the 
fame it may bring him. For the latter, he cares nothing. 

This is the reason that pilgrims voyage to Metlakahtla 
as reverently as to a shrine. It is the noble and unselfish 
life-work of a man who has not only accomplished a great 
purpose, but who is great in himself. When he passes on, 
let him be buried simply among the Indians he has loved 
and to whom he has given his whole life, and write upon 
his headstone: “Let his work speak.” 

The settlement on Annette Island was provided for in 
the act of Congress, 1891, as follows: — 

“ That, until otherwise provided for by law, the body 
of lands known as Annette Islands, situated in Alexander 
Archipelago in southeastern Alaska, on the north side of 
Dixon Entrance, be, and the same is hereby, set apart as 


64 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


a reservation for the Metlakahtla Indians, and those people 
known as Metlakahtlans, who have recently emigrated 
from British Columbia to Alaska, and such other Alaskan 
natives as may join them, to be held and used by them in 
common, under such rules and regulations, and subject to 
such restrictions, as may be prescribed from time to time 
by the Secretary of the Interior.” 

The Indians of the Community are required to sign, and 
to fulfil the terms of, the following Declaration : — 

“ We, the people of Metlakahtla, Alaska, in order to se¬ 
cure to ourselves and our posterity the blessings of a Chris¬ 
tian home, do severally subscribe to the following rules 
for the regulation of our conduct and town affairs: — 

“To reverence the Sabbath and to refrain from all un¬ 
necessary secular work on that day; to attend divine 
worship; to take the Bible for our rule of faith ; to regard 
all true Christians as our brethren ; and to be truthful, 
honest, and industrious. 

“ To be faithful and loyal to the Government and laws 
of the United States. 

“To render our votes when called upon for the election 
of the Towtl Council, and to promptly obey the by-laws 
and orders imposed by the said Council. 

“To attend to the education of our children and keep 
them at school as regularly as possible. 

“To totally abstain from all intoxicants and gambling, 
and never attend heathen festivities or countenance hea¬ 
thenish customs in surrounding villages. 

“To strictly carry out all sanitary regulations necessary 
for the health of the town. 

“To identify ourselves with the progress of the settle¬ 
ment, and to utilize the land we hold. 

“Never to alienate, give away, or sell our land, or any 
portion thereof, to any person or persons who have not 
subscribed to these rules.” 


CHAPTER V 


Dixon Entrance belongs to British Columbia, but the 
boundary crosses its northern waters about three miles 
above Whitby Point on Dundas Island, and the steamer 
approaches Revilla-Gigedo Island. It is twenty-five by 
fifty miles, and was named by Vancouver in honor of the 
Viceroy of New Spain, who sent out several of the most 
successful expeditions. It is pooled by many bits of tur¬ 
quoise water which can scarcely be dignified by the name 
of lakes. 

Carroll Inlet cleaves it half in twain. The exquisite 
gorges and mountains of this island are coming to their 
own very slowly, as compared with its attractions from a 
commercial point of view. 

The island is in the centre of a rich salmon district, and 
during the “ running ” season the clear blue waters flash 
underneath with the glistening silver of the struggling 
fish. In some of the fresh-water streams where the hump¬ 
backed salmon spawn, the fortunate tourist may literally 
make true the frequent Western assertion that at certain 
times “one can walk across on the solid silver bridge 
made by the salmon ” — so tightly are they wedged to¬ 
gether in their desperate and pathetic struggles to reach 
the spawning-ground. 

Vancouver found these “hunch-backs,” as he called 
them, not to his liking,—probably on account of finding 
them at the spawning season. 

f - 65 


66 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Leaving Ketchikan, Revilla and Point Higgins are 
passed to starboard — Higgins being another of Vancou¬ 
ver’s choice namings for the president of Chile. 

“ Did you ever see such a cluttering up of a landscape 
with odds and ends of names ? ” said the pilot one day. 
“And all the ugliest by Vancouver. Give me an Indian 
name every time. It always means something. Take 
this Revilly-Gig Island; the Indians called it ‘Na-a,’ 
meaning 4 the far lakes,’ for all the little lakes scattered 
around. I don’t know as we’re doing much better in our 
own day, though,” he added, staring ahead with a twinkle 
in his eyes. “They’ve just named a couple of mountains 
Mount Thomas Whitten and Mount Shoup ! Now those 
names are all right for men — even congressmen — but 
they’re not worth shucks for mountains. Why, the Rus¬ 
sians could do better! Take Mount St. Elias — named 
by Behring because he discovered it on St. Elias’ day. I 
actually tremble every time I pass that mountain, for fear 
I’ll look up and see a sign tacked on it, stating that the 
name has been changed to Baker or Bacon or Mudge, so 
that Vancouver’s bones will rest more easily in the grave. 
Now look at that point! It’s pretty enough in itself; 
but —Higgins ! ” 

The next feature of interest, however, proved to be 
blessed with a name sweet enough to take away the bit¬ 
terness of many others — Clover Pass. It was not named 
for this most fragrant and dear of all flowers, but for 
Lieutenant, now Rear-Admiral, Clover, of the United 
States Navy. 

Beyond Clover Pass, at the entrance to Naha Bay, is 
Loring, a large and important cannery settlement of the 
Alaska Packers’ Association. There is only one salmon¬ 
canning establishment in Alaska, or even on the North¬ 
west Coast, more picturesquely situated than this, and it is 
nearly two thousand miles “to Westward,” at the mouth 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


67 


of the famed Karluk River, where the same company 
maintains large canneries and successful hatcheries. It 
will be described in another chapter. 

A trail leads from Loring through the woods to Dorr 
Waterfall, in a lovely glen. In Naha Bay thousands of 
fish are taken at every dip of the seine in the narrowest 
cove, which is connected with a chain of small lakes linked 
by the tiniest of streams. In summer these waters seem 
to be of living silver, so thickly are they swarmed with 
darting and curving salmon. 

Not far from Naha Bay is Traitor’s Cove, where Van¬ 
couver and his men were attacked in boats by savages in 
the masks of animals, headed by an old hag who com¬ 
manded and urged them to bloodthirsty deeds. 

This vixen seemed to be a personage of prestige and 
influence, judging both by the immense size of her lip 
ornament and her air of command. She seized the lead 
line from Vancouver’s boat and made it fast to her own 
canoe, while another stole a musket. 

Vancouver, advancing to parley with the chief, made 
the mistake of carrying his musket; whereupon about 
fifty savages leaped at him, armed with spears and dag¬ 
gers. 

The chief gave him to understand by signs that they 
would lay down their arms if he would set the example; 
but the terrible old woman, scenting peace and scorning 
it, violently and turbulently harangued the tribe and 
urged it to attack. 

The brandishing of spears and the flourishing of daggers 
became so uncomfortably close and insistent, that Van¬ 
couver finally overcame his “humanity,” and fired into 
the canoes. 

The effect was electrical. The Indians in the small 
canoes instantly leaped into the water and swam for the 
shore; those in the larger ones tipped the canoes to one 


68 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


side, so that the higher side shielded them while they 
made the best of their way to the shore. 

There they ascended the rocky cliffs and stoned the 
boats. Several of Vancouver’s men were severely 
wounded, one having been speared completely through 
the thigh. 

The point at the northern entrance to Naha Bay, 
where they landed to dress wounds and take account of 
stock not stolen, was named Escape Point; a name which 
it still retains. 

Kasa-an Bay is an inlet pushing fifteen miles into the 
eastern coast of Prince of Wales Island, which is two 
hundred miles in length and averages forty in width. 
Cholmondeley Sound penetrates almost as far, and Moira 
Sound, Niblack Anchorage on North Arm, Twelve Mile 
Arm, and Skowl Arm, are all storied and lovely inlets. 
Skowl was an old chief of the Eagle Clan, whose sway 
was questioned by none. He was the greatest chief of 
his time, and ruled his people as autocratically as the lordly, 
but blustering, Baranoff ruled his at Sitka. Skowl re- # 
pulsed the advances of missionaries and scorned all at¬ 
tempts at Christianizing himself and his tribe. His was a 
powerful personality which is still mentioned with a re¬ 
spect not unmixed with awe. To say that a chief is as 
fearless as Skowl is a fine compliment, indeed, and one 
not often bestowed. 

Although not on the regular run of steamers, Howkan, 
now a Presbyterian missionary village on Cordova Bay, 
on the southwestern part of Prince of Wales Island, must 
not be entirely neglected. In early days the village was 
a forest of totems, and the graves were almost as in¬ 
teresting as the totems. Both are rapidly vanishing 
and losing their most picturesque features before the 
march of civilization and Christianity; but Howkan is 
still one of the show-places of Alaska. The tourist who 























































































































































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


69 


is able to make this side trip on one of the small steamers 
that run past there, is the envy of the unfortunate ones 
who are compelled to forego that pleasure. 

Totemism is the poetry of the Indian — or would be if 
it possessed any religious significance. 

I once asked an educated Tsimpsian Indian what the 
Metlakahtla people believed, — meaning the belief that 
Mr. Duncan had taught them. He put the tips of his 
fingers together, and with an expression of great earnest¬ 
ness, replied: — 

“ They believed in a great Spirit, to whom they prayed 
and whom they worshipped everywhere, believing that 
this beautiful Spirit was everywhere and could hear. 
They worshipped it in the forest, in the trees, in the 
flowers, in the sun and wind, in the blades of grass, — alone 
and far from every one, — in the running water and the 
still lakes.” 

“ Oh, how beautiful ! ” I said, in all sincerity. “ It 
must be the same as my own belief ; only I never heard 
it put into words before. And that is what Mr. Duncan 
has taught them ? ” 

He turned and looked at me squarely and steadily. It 
was a look of weariness, of disgust. 

“Oh, no,” he replied, coldly; “that was what they be¬ 
lieved before they knew better ; before they were taught 
the truth ; before Christianity was explained to them. 
That is what they believed while they were savages ! ” 

We were in the library of the Jefferson. The room is 
always warm, and at that moment it was warmer than I 
had ever known it to be. Under the steady gaze of those 
shining dark eyes it presently became too warm to be 
endured. With my curiosity quite satisfied, I withdrew 
to the hurricane deck, where there is always air. 

Of the Indians in the territory of Alaska there are two 
stocks — the Thlinkits, or Coast Indians, and the Tinneh, 


70 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


or those inhabiting the vast regions of the interior. The 
Thlinkits comprise the Tsimpsians, or Chimsyans, the 
Kygani, or Haidahs, the true Thlinkits, or Koloshes, and 
the Yakutats. 

The Kygani, or Haidah, Indians inhabit the Queen 
Charlotte Archipelago, which, although belonging to 
British Columbia, must be taken into consideration in 
any description of the Indians of Alaska. They were 
formerly a warlike, powerful, and treacherous race, mak¬ 
ing frequent attacks upon neighboring tribes, even as far 
south as Puget Sound. They are noted, not only for 
these savage qualities, but also for the grace and beauty 
of their canoes and for their delicate and artistic carvings. 
Their small totems, pipes, and other articles carved out of 
a dark gray, highly polished slate stone obtained on their 
own islands, sometimes inlaid with particles of shell, are 
well known and command fancy prices. Haidah basketry 
and hats are of unusual beauty and workmanship. The 
peculiar ornamentation is painted upon the hats and not 
woven in. The designs which are most frequently seen 
are the head, wings, tail, and feet of a duck, — certain 
details somewhat resembling a large oyster-shell, or a 
human ear, — painted in black and rich reds. The hats 
are usually in the plain twined weaving, and of such fine, 
even workmanship that they are entirely waterproof. 
The Haidahs formerly wore the nose- and ear-rings, or 
other ornaments, and the labret in the lower lip. 

The Thlinkits, — or Koloshians, as the Russians and 
Aleuts-called them, from their habit of wearing the labret, 
— are divided into two tribes, the Stikines and the Sit- 
kans; the former inhabiting the mainland in the vicinity 
of the Stikine River, straggling north and south for some 
distance along the coast. 

The Sitkans dwell in the neighborhood of Sitka and on 
the near-by islands. They are among the tribes of Indians 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


71 


who gave Baranoff much trouble. They formerly painted 
with vermilion or lamp-black mixed with oil, traced on 
their faces in startling patterns. At the present time 
they dress almost like white people, except for the ever¬ 
lasting blanket on the older ones. Some of the younger 
women are very handsome — clean, light-brown of skin, 
red-cheeked, of good figure, and having large, dark eyes, 
at once soft and bright. They also have good, white 
teeth, and are decidedly attractive in their coquettish and 
saucy airs and graces. The young Indian women at Sitka, 
Yakutat, and Dundas are the prettiest and the most at¬ 
tractive in Alaska; nor have I seen any in the Klondike, 
or along the Yukon, to equal them in appearance. Also, 
one can barter with them for their fascinating wares with¬ 
out praying to heaven to be deprived of the sense of smell 
for a sufficient number of hours. 

Among the Thlinkits, as well as among many of the 
Innuit, or Eskimo tribes, the strange and cruel custom 
prevails of isolating young girls approaching puberty in 
a hut set aside for this purpose. The period of isolation 
varies from a month to a year, during which they are con¬ 
sidered unclean and are allowed only liquid food, which 
soon reduces them to a state of painful emaciation. No 
one is permitted to minister to their needs but a mother 
or a female slave, and they cannot hold conversation with 
any one. 

When a maiden finally emerges from her confinement 
there is great rejoicing, if she be of good family, and 
feasting. A charm of peculiar design is hung around 
her neck, called a “ Virgin Charm,” or “ Virtue Charm,” 
which silently announces that she is “ clean ” and of mar¬ 
riageable age. Formerly, according to Dali and other 
authorities, the lower lip was pierced and a silver pin 
shaped like a nail inserted. This made the same an¬ 
nouncement. 


72 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The chief diet of the Thlinkit is fish, fresh or smoked. 
Unlike the Aleutians, they do not eat whale blubber, as 
the whale figures in their totems, but are fond of the por¬ 
poise and seal. The women are fond of dress, and a 
voyager who will take a gay last year’s useless hat along 
in her steamer trunk, will be sure to “swap” it for a 
handsome Indian basket. In many places they still em¬ 
ploy their early methods of fishing — raking herring and 
salmon out of the streams, during a run, with long poles 
into which nails are driven, like a rake. 

They are fond of game of all kinds. They weave 
blankets out of the wool of the mountain sheep. Large 
spoons, whose handles are carved in the form and designs 
of totems, are made out of the horns of sheep and goats. 

The Thlinkits are divided into four totems — the whale, 
the eagle, the raven, and the wolf. The raven, which by 
the Tinnehs is considered an evil bird, is held in the high¬ 
est respect by the Thlinkits, who believe it to be a good 
spirit. 

Totemism is defined as the system of dividing a tribe 
into clans according to their totems. It comprises a class 
of objects which the savage holds in superstitious awe and 
respect, believing that it holds some relation to, and pro¬ 
tection over, himself. There is the clan totem, common 
to a whole clan; the sex totem, common to the males or 
females of a clan; and the individual totem, belonging 
solely to one person and not descending to any member 
of the next generation. It is generally believed that the 
totem has some special religious significance; but this is 
not true, if we are to believe that the younger and edu¬ 
cated Indians of to-day know what totemism means. 
Some totems are veritable family trees. The clan totem 
is reverenced by a whole clan, the members of which are 
known by the name of their totem, and believe themselves 
to be descended from a common animal ancestor, and 


























































Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

Old Russian Building, Sitka 
















ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


73 


bound together by ties closer and more sacred than those 
of blood. 

The system of totemism is old; but the word itself, 
according to J. G. Frazer, first appeared in literature in 
the nineteenth century, being introduced from an Ojibway 
word by J. Long, an interpreter. The same authority 
claims that it had a religious aspect; but this is denied, 
so far, at least, as the Tlilinkits are concerned. 

The Eagle clan believe themselves to be descended from 
an eagle, which they, accordingly, reverence and protect 
from harm or death, believing that it is a beneficent 
spirit that watches over them. 

Persons of the same totem may neither marry nor have 
sexual intercourse with each other. In Australia the 
usual penalty for the breaking of this law was death. 
With the Thlinkits, a man might marry a woman of any 
save his own totem clan. The raven represented woman, 
and the wolf, man. A young man selected his individual 
totem from the animal which appeared most frequently 
and significantly in his dreams during his lonely fast and 
vigil in the heart of the forest for some time before reach¬ 
ing the state of puberty. The animals representing a 
man’s different totems — clan, family, sex, and individual 
— were carved and painted on his tall totem-pole, his 
house, his paddles, and other objects; they were also 
woven into hats, basketry, and blankets, and embroidered 
upon moccasins with beads. Some of the Haidali canoes 
have most beautifully carven and painted prows, with the 
totem design appearing. These canoes are far superior to 
those of Puget Sound. The very sweep of the prow, 
strong and graceful, as it cleaves the golden air above the 
water, proclaims its northern home. Their well-known 
outlines, the erect, rigid figures of the warriors kneeling 
in them, and the strong, swift, sure dip of the paddles, 
sent dread to the hearts of the Puget Sound Indians and 


74 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


the few white settlers in the early part of the last century. 
The cry of “Northern Indians!” never failed to create a 
panic. They made many marauding expeditions to the 
south in their large and splendid canoes. The inferior 
tribes of the sound held them in the greatest fear and 
awe. 

A child usually adopts the mother’s totem, and at birth 
receives a name significant of her family. Later on he 
receives one from his father’s family, and this event is 
always attended with much solemnity and ceremony. 

A man takes wives in proportion to his wealth. If he 
be the possessor of many blankets, he takes trouble unto 
himself by the dozen. There are no spring bonnets, 
however, to buy. They do not indulge themselves with 
so many wives as formerly; nor do they place such im¬ 
plicit faith in the totem, now that they are becoming 
“ Christianized.” 

Dali gives the following interesting description of a 
Thlinkit wedding ceremony thirty years ago: A lover 
sends to his mistress’s relations, asking for her as a wife. 
If he receives a favorable reply, he sends as many presents 
as he can get together to her father. On the appointed 
day he goes to the house where she lives, and sits down 
with his back to the door. 

The father has invited all the relations, who now raise 
a song, to allure the coy bride out of the corner where she 
has been sitting. When the song is done, furs or pieces 
of new calico are laid on the floor, and she walks over 
them and sits down by the side of the groom. All this 
time she must keep her head bowed down. Then all the 
guests dance and sing, diversifying the entertainment, 
when tired, by eating. The pair do not join in any of the 
ceremonies. That their future life may be happy, they 
fast for two days more. Four weeks afterward they come 
together, and are then recognized as husband and wife. 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


n 


The bridegroom is free to live with his father-in-law, or 
return to his own home. If he chooses the latter the 
bride receives a trousseau equal in value to the gifts 
received by her parents from her husband. If the hus¬ 
band becomes dissatisfied with his wife, he can send her 
back with her dowry, but loses his own gifts. If a wife 
is unfaithful he may send her back with nothing, and 
demand his own again. They may separate by mutual 
consent without returning any property. When the 
marriage festival is over, the silver pin is removed from 
the lower lip of the bride and replaced by a plug, shaped 
like a spool, but not over three-quarters of an inch long, 
and this plug is afterward replaced by a larger one of 
wood, bone, or stone, so that an old woman may have an 
ornament of this kind two inches in diameter. These 
large ones are of an oval shape, but scooped out above, 
below, and around the edge, like a pulley-wheel. When 
very large, a mere strip of flesh goes around the kaltishka, 
or “little trough.” From the name which the Aleuts gave 
the appendage when they first visited Sitka, the nick¬ 
name “ Kolosh ” has arisen, and has been applied to this 
and allied tribes. 

Many years ago, when a man died, his brother or his 
sister’s son was compelled to marry the widow. 

That seems worth while. Naturally, the man would not 
desire the woman, and the woman would not desire the 
man; therefore, the result of the forced union might 
prove full of delightful surprises. If such a law could 
have been passed in England, there would have been no 
occasion for the prolonged agitation over the “Deceased 
wife’s sister ” bill, which dragged its weary way through 
the courts and the papers. Nobody would desire to marry 
his deceased wife’s sister; or, if he did, she would decline 
the honor. 

An ancient Thlinkit superstition is, that once a man — 


76 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


a Thlinkit, of course — had a young wife whom he so 
idolized that he would not permit her to work. This is 
certainly the most convincing proof that an Indian could 
give of his devotion. From morning to night she dwelt 
in sweet idleness, guarded by eight little redbirds, that 
flew about her when she walked, or hovered over her when 
she reclined upon her furs or preciously woven blankets. 

These little birds were good spirits, of course, but alas! 
they resembled somewhat women who are so good that 
out of their very goodness evil is wrought. In the town 
in which I dwell there is a good woman, a member of a 
church, devout, and scorning sin, who keeps “roomers.” 
On two or three occasions this good woman has found let¬ 
ters which belonged to her roomers, and she has done what 
an honorable woman would not do. She has read letters 
that she had no right to read, and she has found therein 
secrets that would wreck families and bow down heads in 
sorrow to their graves; and yet, out of her goodness, she 
has felt it to be her duty “ to tell,” and she has told. 

Since knowing the story of the eight little Thlinkit red- 
birds, I have never seen this woman without a red mist 
seeming to float round her; her mouth becomes a twitter¬ 
ing beak, her feet are claws that carry her noiselessly into 
secret places, her eyes are little black beads that flash from 
side to side in search of other people’s sins, and her shoul¬ 
ders are folded wings. For what did the little good red- 
birds do but go and tell the Thlinkit man that his young 
and pretty and idolized wife had spoken to another man. 
He took her out into the forest and shut her up in a box. 
Then he killed all his sister’s children because they knew 
his secret. His sister went in lamentations to the beach, 
where she was seen by her totem whale, who, when her 
cause of grief was made known to him, bade her be of 
good cheer. 

“ Swallow a small stone,” said the whale, “ which you 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


77 


must pick up from the beach, drinking some sea-water at 
the same time.” 

The woman did as the whale directed. In a few months 
she gave birth to a son, whom she was compelled to hide 
from her brother. This child was Yehl (the raven), the 
beneficent spirit of the Thlinkits, maker of forests, moun¬ 
tains, rivers, and seas; the one who guides the sun, moon, 
and stars, and controls the winds and floods. His abiding- 
place is at the head waters of the Nass River, whence the 
Thlinkits came to their present home. When he grew up 
he became so expert in the use of the bow and arrow 
that it is told of his mother that she went clad in the rose, 
green, and lavender glory of the breasts of humming-birds 
which he had killed in such numbers that she was able to 
fashion her entire raiment of their most exquisite parts, — 
as befitted the mother of the good spirit of men. 

Yehl performed many noble and miraculous deeds, the 
mo§t dazzling of which was the giving of light to the 
world. He had heard that a rich old chief kept the sun, 
moon, and stars in boxes, carefully locked and guarded. 
This chief had an only daughter whom he worshipped. 
He would allow no one to make love to her, so Yehl, per¬ 
ceiving that only a descendant of the old man could secure 
access to the boxes, and knowing that the chief examined 
all his daughter’s food before she ate it, and that it would 
therefore avail him nothing to turn himself into ordinary 
food, conceived the idea of converting himself into a 
fragrant grass and by springing up persistently in the 
maiden’s path, he was one day eaten and swallowed. A 
grandson was then born to the old chief, who wrought 
upon his affections — as grandsons have a way of doing— 
to such an extent that he could deny him nothing. 

One day the young Yehl, who seems to have been 
appropriately named, set up a lamentation for the boxes he 
desired and continued it until one was in his possession. 


78 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


He took it out-doors and opened it. Millions of little 
milk-white, opaline birds instantly flew up and settled in 
the sky. They were followed by a large, silvery bird, 
which was so heavy and uncertain in her flight to the sky 
that, although she finally reached it, she never appeared 
twice the same thereafter, and on some nights could not 
be seen at all. The old chief was very angry, and it was 
not until Yehl had wept and fasted himself to death’s very 
door that he obtained the sun; whereupon, he changed 
himself back into a raven, and flying away from the reach 
of his stunned and temporary grandfather, who had com¬ 
manded him not to open the box, he straightway lifted 
the lid — and the world was flooded with light. 

One of the most interesting of the Thlinkit myths is 
the one of the spirits that guard and obey the shamans. 
The most important are those dwelling in the North. 
They were warriors ; hence, an unusual display of the 
northern lights was considered an omen of approaching 
war. The other spirits are of people who died a common¬ 
place death; and the greatest care must be exercised by 
relatives in mourning for these, or they will have difficulty 
in reaching their new abode. Too maiv tears are as bad 
as none at all; the former mistake mires and gutters the 
path, the latter leaves it too deep in dust. A decent 
and comfortable quantity makes it hard and even and 
pleasant. 

Their deluge myth is startling in its resemblance to 
ours. When their flood came upon them, a few were saved 
in a great canoe which was made of cedar. This wood 
splits rather easily, parallel to its grain, under stress of 
storm, and the one in which the people embarked split 
after much buffeting. The Thlinkits clung to one part, 
and all other peoples to the other part, creating a difference 
in language. Chet’l, the eagle, was separated from his 
sister, to whom he said, “You may never see me again, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


79 


but you shall hear my voice forever.” He changed him 
self into a bird of tremendous size and flew away south¬ 
ward. The sister climbed Mount Edgecumbe, which 
opened and swallowed her, leaving a hole that has remained 
ever since. Earthquakes are caused by her struggles with 
bad spirits which seek to drive her away, and by her in¬ 
variable triumph over them she sustains the poise of the 
world. 

Chet’l returned to Mount Edgecumbe, where he still 
lives. When he comes forth, which is but seldom, the 
flapping of his great wings produces the sound which is 
called thunder. He is, therefore, known everywhere as 
the Thunder-bird. The glance of his brilliant eyes is the 
lightning. 

Concerning the totem-pole which was taken from an 
Indian village on Tongas Island, near Ketchikan, by mem¬ 
bers of the Post-Intelligencer business men’s excursion to 
Alaska in 1899 — and. for which the city of Seattle was 
legally compelled to pay handsomely afterward — the fol¬ 
lowing letter from a member of the family originally 
owning the totem is of quaint interest: — 

“ I have received your letter, and I am going to tell you 
the story of the totem-pole. Now, the top one is a crow 
himself, and the next one from the pole top is a man. 
That crow have told him a story. Crow have told him a 
good-looking woman want to married some man. So he 
did marry her. She was a frog. And the fourth one is a 
mink> One time, the story says, that one time it was a 
high tide for some time, and so crow got marry to mink, 
so crow he eats any kind of Ashes from the water. After 
some time crow got tired of mink, and he leave her, and 
he get married to that whale-killer, and then crow he have 
all he want to eat. That last one on the totem-pole is the 
father of the crow. The story says that one time it got 


80 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


dark for a long while. The darkness was all over the 
world, and only crow’s father was the only one can give 
light to the world. He simply got a key. He keeps the 
sun and moon in a chest, that one time crow have ask his 
father if he play with the sun and moon in the house but, 
was not allowed, so he start crying for many days until he 
was sick. So his father let him play with it and he have 
it for many days. And one day he let the moon in the 
sky by mistake, but he keep the sun, and he which take 
time before he could get his chances to go outside of the 
house. As soon as he was out he let sun back to the sky 
again, and it was light all over the world again. (End of 

story.) « Yours respectfully, 

“ David E. Kinninnook. 

“ P. S. The Indians have a long story, and one of the chiefs 
of a village or of a tribe only a chief can put up so many 
carvings on our totem-pole, and he have to fully know the 
story of what totem he is made. I may give you the whole 
story of it sometimes. Crow on top have a quart moon 
in his mouth, because he have ask his father for a light. 

“D. E. K. 

“ If you can put this story on the Post-Intelligencer, of 
Seattle, .Wash., and I think the people will be glad to 
know some of it.” 

The Thlinkits burned their dead, with the exception of 
the shamans, but carefully preserved the ashes and all 
charred bones from the funeral pyre. These were carefully 
folded in new blankets and buried in the backs of totems. 
One totem, when taken down to send to the Lewis and 
Clark Exposition, was found to contain the remains of a 
child in the butt-end of the pole which was in the ground ; 
the portion containing the child being sawed off and 
reinterred. 



Copyright by E. A Hegg, Juneau 

Grekk-Russian Church at Sitka 



































v\ 



ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


81 


A totem-pole donated to the exposition by Yannate, a 
very old Thlinkit, was made by his own hands in honor of 
his mother. His mother belonged to the Raven Clan, 
and a large raven is at the crest of the pole; under it is 
the brown bear — the totem of the Kokwonton Tribe, to 
which the woman’s husband belonged; underneath the 
bear is an Indian with a cane, representing the woman’s 
brother, who was a noted shaman or sorcerer many years 
ago; at the bottom are two faces, or masks, representing 
the shaman’s favorite slaves. 

The Haidahs did not burn their dead, but buried them, 
usually in the butts of great cedars. Frequently, however, 
they were buried at the base of totem-poles, and when in 
recent years poles have been removed, remains have been 
found and reinterred. 

On the backs of some of the old totem-poles at Wrangell 
and other places, may be seen the openings that were made 
to receive the ashes of the dead, the portion that had been 
sawed out being afterward replaced. 

The wealth of a Thlinkit is estimated according to his 
number of blankets ; his honor and importance by the 
number of potlatches he has given. Every member of his 
totem is called upon to contribute to the potlatch of the 
chief, working to that end, and “skimping” himself in 
his own indulgences for that object, for many years, if 
necessary. The potlatch is given at the full of the moon ; 
the chief’s clan and totem decline all gifts; it is not in 
good form for any member thereof to accept the slightest 
gift. Guests are seated and treated according to their 
rights, and the resentment of a slight is not postponed 
until the banquet is over and the blood has cooled. An 
immediate fight to the bitter end is the result; so that the 
greatest care is exercised in this nice matter — which has 
proven a pitfall to many a white hostess in the most civil¬ 
ized lands; so seldom does a guest have the right and the 


82 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


honor to feel that where he sits is the head of the table. 
At these potlatches a “ frenzied ” hospitality prevails ; 
everything is bestowed with a lavish and reckless hand 
upon the visitors, from food and drink to the host’s most 
precious possession, blankets. His wives are given freely, 
and without the pang which must go with every blanket. 
Visitors come and remain for days, or until the host is 
absolutely beggared and has nothing more to give. 

But since every one accepting his potlatch is not only 
expected, but actually bound by tribal laws as fixed as 
the stars, to return it, the beggared chief gradually “ stocks 
up” again; and in a few years is able to launch forth 
brilliantly once more. This is the same system of give 
and take that prevails in polite society in the matter of 
party-giving. With neither^ may the custom be con¬ 
sidered as real hospitality, but simply a giving with the 
expectation of a sure return. Chiefs have frequently, 
however, given away fortunes of many thousands of 
dollars within a few days. These were chiefs who aspired 
to rise high above their contemporaries in glory; and, 
therefore, would be disappointed to have their generosity 
equally returned. 

A shaman is a medicine-man who is popularly supposed 
to be possessed of supernatural powers. A certain 
mystery, or mysticism, is connected with him. He spends 
much time in the solitudes of the mountains, working 
himself into a highly emotional mental state. The shaman 
has his special masks, carved ivory diagnosis-sticks, and 
other paraphernalia. The hair of the shaman was never 
cut; at his death, his body was not burned, but was in¬ 
variably placed in a box on four high posts. It first 
reposed for one whole night in each of the four corners 
of the house in which he died. On the fifth day it was 
laid to rest by the sea-shore; and every time a Thlinkit 
passed it, he tossed a small offering into the water, to 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


83 


secure the favor of the dead shaman, who, even in death, 
was believed to exercise an influence over the living, for 
good or ill. 

Slavery was common, as — until the coming of the 
Russians — was cannibalism. The slaves were captives 
from other tribes. They were forced to perform the most 
disagreeable duties, and were subjected to cruel treatment, 
punished for trivial faults, and frequently tortured, or 
offered in sacrifice. A few very old slaves are said to be 
in existence at the present time ; but they are now treated 
kindly, and have almost forgotten that their condition is 
inferior to that of the remainder of the tribe. 

The most famous slaves on the Northwest Coast were 
John Jewitt and John Thompson, sole survivors of the 
crew of the Boston , which was captured in 1802 by the 
Indians of Nootka Sound, on the western coast of Van¬ 
couver Island. The officers and all the other men were 
most foully murdered, and the ship was burned. 

Jewitt and Thompson were spared because one was an 
armorer ancj the other a sailmaker. They were held 
as slaves for nearly three years, when they made their 
escape. 

Jewitt published a book, in which he simply and effec¬ 
tively described many of the curious, cruel, and amusing 
customs of the people. The two men finally made their 
escape upon a boat which had appeared unexpectedly in 
the harbor. 

The Yakutats belong to the Thlinkit stock, but have 
never worn the “ little trough,” the distinguishing mark 
of the true Thlinkit. They inhabit the country between 
Mount Fairweather and Mount St. Elias, and were the 
cause of much trouble and disaster to Baranoff, Lisiansky, 
and other early Russians. They have never adopted the 
totem; and may, therefore, eat the flesh and blubber of 


84 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


the whale, which the Thlinkits respect, because it figures 
on their totems. The graveyards of the Yakutats are 
very picturesque and interesting. 

The tribes of the Tinneh, or interior Indians, will be 
considered in another chapter. 

Behm Canal is narrow, abruptly shored, and offers 
many charming vistas that unfold unexpectedly before 
the tourist’s eyes. Alaskan steamers do not enter it and, 
therefore, New Eddystone Rock is missed by many. This 
is a rocky pillar that rises straight from the water, with 
a circumference of about one hundred feet at the base 
and a height of from two to three hundred feet. It is 
draped gracefully with mosses, ferns, and vines. Van¬ 
couver breakfasted here, and named it for the famous 
Eddystone Light of England. Unuk River empties its 
foaming, glacial waters into Behm Canal. 


CHAPTER VI 


Leaving Ketchikan, Clarence Strait is entered. This 
was named by Vancouver for the Duke of Clarence, 
and extends in a northwesterly direction for a hundred 
miles. The celebrated Stikine River empties into it. 
On Wrangell Island, near the mouth of the Stikine, is 
Fort Wrangell, where the steamer makes a stop of several 
hours. 

Fort Wrangell was the first settlement made in south¬ 
eastern Alaska, after Sitka. It was established in 1834, 
by Lieutenant Zarembo, who acted under the orders of 
Baron Wrangell, Governor of the Colonies at that time. 

A grave situation had arisen over a dispute between the 
Russian American Company and the equally powerful 
Hudson Bay Company, the latter having pressed its 
operations over the Northwest and seriously undermined 
the trade of the former. In 1825, the Hudson Bay Com¬ 
pany had taken advantage of the clause in the Anglo- 
Russian treaty of that year, — which provided for the free 
navigation of streams crossing Russian territory in their 
course from the British possessions to the sea, — and had 
pushed its trading operations to the upper waters of the 
Stikine, and in 1833 had outfitted the brig Dryad with 
colonists, cattle, and arms for the establishing of trading 
posts on the Stikine. 

Lieutenant Zarembo, with two armed vessels, the Chi- 
chagoff and the Chilkaht, established a fort on a small 
peninsula, on the site of an Indian village, and named it 

85 


86 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Redoubt St. Dionysius. All unaware of these significant 
movements, the Dryad , approaching the mouth of the 
Stikine, was received by shots from the shore, as well as 
from a vessel in the harbor. She at once put back until 
out of range, and anchored. Lieutenant Zarembo went 
out in a boat, and, in the name of the Governor and the 
Emperor, forbade the entrance of a British vessel into the 
river. Representations from the agents of the Hudson 
Bay Company were unavailing; they were warned to at 
once remove themselves and their vessel from the vicinity 
— which they accordingly did. 

This affair was the cause of serious trouble between the 
two nations, which was not settled until 1889, when a 
commission met in London and solved the difficulties by 
deciding that Russia should pay an indemnity of twenty 
thousand pounds, and lease to the Hudson Bay Company 
the now celebrated lisiere , or thirty-mile strip from Dixon 
Entrance to Yakutat. 

In 1840 the Hudson Bay Company raised the British 
flag and changed the name from Redoubt St. Dionysius 
to Fort Stikine. Sir George Simpson’s men are said to 
have passed several years of most exciting and adventu¬ 
rous life there, owing to the attacks and besiegements pf 
the neighboring Indians. An attempt to scale the stock¬ 
ade resulted in failure and defeat. The following year 
the fort’s supply of water was cut off and the fort was 
besieged; but the Britishers saved themselves by luckily 
seizing a chief as hostage. 

A year later occurred another attack, in which the fort 
would have fallen had it not been for the happy arrival of 
two armed vessels in charge of Sir George Simpson, who 
tells the story in this brief and simple fashion: — 

“ By daybreak on Monday, the 25th of April (1842), we 
were in Wrangell’s Straits, and toward evening, as we ap¬ 
proached Stikine, my apprehensions were awakened by 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


81 


observing the two national flags, the Russian and the 
English, hoisted half-mast high, while, on landing about 
seven, my worst fears were realized by hearing of the 
tragical end of Mr. John McLoughlin, Jr., the gentleman 
recently in charge. On the night of the twentieth a dis¬ 
pute had arisen in the fort, while some of the men, as I 
was grieved to hear, were in a state of intoxication; and 
several shots were fired, by one of which Mr. McLoughlin 
fell. My arrival at this critical juncture was most oppor¬ 
tune, for otherwise the fort might have fallen a sacrifice 
to the savages, who were assembled round to the number 
of two thousand, justly thinking that the place could 
make but a feeble resistance, deprived as it was of its 
head, and garrisoned by men in a state of complete insub¬ 
ordination.” 

In 1867 a United States military post was established 
on a new site. A large stockade was erected and gar¬ 
risoned by two companies of the Twenty-first Infantry. 
This post was abandoned in 1870, the buildings being sold 
for six hundred dollars. 

In the early eighties Lieutenant Schwatka found Wran¬ 
gell “ the most tumble-down-looking company of cabins I 
ever saw.” He found its “Chinatown” housed in an old 
Stikine River steamboat on the beach, which had descended 
to its low estate as gradually and almost as imperceptibly 
as Becky Sharpe descended to the “ soiled white petticoat ” 
condition of life. As Queen of the Stikine, the old steamer 
had earned several fortunes for her owners in that river’s 
heyday times; then she was beached and used as a store; 
then, as a hotel; and, last of all, as a Chinese mess- and 
lodging-house. 

In 1838 another attempt had been made by the Hudson 
Bay Company to establish a trading post at Dease Lake, 
about sixty miles from Stikine River and a Jiundred and 
fifty from the sea. This attempt also was a failure. The 


88 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


tortures of fear and starvation were vividly described by 
Mr. Robert Campbell, who had charge of the party mak¬ 
ing the attempt, which consisted of four men. 

“We passed a winter of constant dread from the savage 
Russian Indians, and of much suffering from starvation. 
We were dependent for subsistence on what animals we 
could catch, and, failing that, on tripe de roche (moss). 
We were at one time reduced to such dire straits that we 
were obliged to eat our parchment windows, and our last 
meal before abandoning Dease Lake, on the eighth of May, 
1839, consisted of the lacings of our snow-shoes.” 

Had it not been for the kindness and the hospitality of 
the female chief of the Nahany tribe of Indians, who in¬ 
habited the region, the party would have perished. 

The Indians of the coast in early days made long trad¬ 
ing excursions into the interior, to obtain furs. 

The discovery of the Cassiar mines, at the head of the 
Stikine, was responsible for the revival of excitement and 
lawlessness in Fort Wrangell, as it had been named at the 
time of its first military occupation, and a company of the 
Fourth Artillery was placed in charge until 1877, the date 
of the removal of troops from all posts in Alaska. 

The first post and the ground upon which it stood werfe 
sold to W. K. Lear. The next company occupied it at a 
very small rental, contrary to the wishes of the owner. 
In 1884 the Treasury Department took possession, claim¬ 
ing that the first sale was illegal. A deputy collector was 
placed in charge. The case was taken into the courts, 
but it was not until 1890 that a decision was rendered in 
the Sitka court that, as the first sale was unconstitutional, 
Mr. Lear was entitled to his six hundred dollars with 
interest compounding for twenty years. 

Wrangell gradually fell into a storied and picturesque 
decay. The burnished halo of early romance has always 
clung to her. At the time of the gold excitement and 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


89 


the rush to the Klondike, the town revived suddenly with 
the reopening of navigation on the Stikine. This was, at 
first, a favorite route to the Klondike. At White Horse 
may to-day be seen steamers which were built on the 
Stikine in 1898, floated by piecemeal up that river and 
across Lake Teslin, and down the Hootalinqua River to 
the Yukon, having been packed by horses the many inter¬ 
vening miles between rivers and lakes, at fifty cents a 
pound. Reaching their destination at White Horse, they 
were put together, and started on the Dawson run. 

Looking at these historic steamers, now lying idle at 
White Horse, the passenger and freight rates do not seem 
so exorbitant as they do before one comes to understand 
the tremendous difficulties of securing any transportation 
at all in these unknown and largely unexplored regions 
in so short a time. Even a person who owns no stock in 
steamship or railway corporations, if he be sensible and 
reasonable, must be able to see the point of view of the 
men who dauntlessly face such hardships and perils to 
furnish transportation in these wild and inaccessible 
places. They take such desperate chances neither for 
their health nor for sweet charity’s sake. 

Three years ago Wrangell was largely destroyed by 
fire. It is partially rebuilt, but the visitor to-day is 
doomed to disappointment at first sight of the modern 
frontier buildings. Ruins of the old fort, however, re¬ 
main, and several ancient totems are in the direction of 
the old burial ground. One, standing in front of a 
modern cottage which has been erected on the site of 
the old lodge, is all sprouted out in green. Mosses, 
grasses, and ferns spring in April freshness out of the 
eyes of children, the beaks of eagles, and the open mouths 
of frogs; while the very crest of the totem is crowned a 
foot or more high with a green growth. The effect is at 
once ludicrous and pathetic, — marking, as it does, the 


90 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


vanishing of a picturesque and interesting race, its cus¬ 
toms and its superstitions. 

The famous chief of the Stikine region was Shakes, a 
fierce, fighting, bloodthirsty old autocrat, dreaded by all 
other tribes, and insulted with impunity by none. He 
was at the height of his power in the forties, but lived for 
many years afterward, resisting the advances of mis¬ 
sionaries and scorning their religion to the day of his 
death. In many respects he was like the equally famous 
Skowl of Kasa-an, who went to the trouble and the ex¬ 
pense of erecting a totem-pole for the sole purpose of per¬ 
petuating his scorn and derision of Christian advances to 
his people. The totem is said to have been covered with 
the images of priests, angels, and books. 

Shakes was given one of the most brilliant funerals 
ever held in Alaska; but whether as an expression of 
irreconcilable grief or of uncontrollable joy in the escape 
of his people from his tyrannic and overbearing sway, is 
not known. He belonged to the bear totem, and a stuffed 
bear figured in the pageant and was left to guard his 
grave. 

The climate of Wrangell is charming, owing to the high 
mountains on the islands to the westward which shelte'r 
the town from the severity of the ocean storms. The 
growing of vegetables and berries is a profitable invest¬ 
ment, both reaching enormous size, the latter being of 
specially delicate flavor. Flowers bloom luxuriantly. 

The Wrangell shops at present contain some very fine 
specimens of basketry, and the prices were very reason¬ 
able, although most of the tourists from our steamer were 
speechless when they heard them. Some real Attu and 
Atka baskets were found here at prices ranging from one 
hundred dollars up. At Wrangell, therefore, the tourist 
begins to part with his money, and does not cease until 
he has reached Skaguay to the northward, or Sitka and 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


91 


Yakutat to the westward ; and if he- should journey out 
into the Aleutian Isles, he may borrow money to get 
home. The weave displayed is mostly twined, but some 
fine specimens of coiled and coiled imbricated were offered 
us in the dull, fascinating colors used by the Thompson 
River Indians of British Columbia, having probably been 
obtained in trade. These latter are treasures, and always 
worth buying, especially as Indian baskets are increasing 
in value with every year that passes. Baskets that I pur¬ 
chased easily for three dollars or three and a half in 1905 
were held stubbornly at seven and a half or eight in 1907 ; 
while the difference in prices of the more expensive ones 
was even greater. 

Squaws sit picturesquely about the streets, clad in gay 
colors, with their wares spread out on the sidewalk in 
front of them. They invariably sit with their backs 
against buildings or fences, seeming to have an aversion 
to permitting any one to stand or pass behind them. 
They have grown very clever at bargaining; and the 
little trick, which has been practised by tourists for years, 
of waiting until the gangway is being hauled in and then 
making an offer for a coveted basket, has apparently been 
worn threadbare, and is received with jeers and derision, 
— which is rather discomfiting to the person making the 
offer if he chances to be upon a crowded steamer. The 
squaws point their fingers at him, to shame him, and 
chuckle and tee-hee among themselves, with many gut¬ 
tural duckings and side-glances so good-naturedly con¬ 
temptuous and derisive as to be embarrassing beyond 
words, — particularly as some greatly desired basket dis¬ 
appears into a filthy bag and is borne proudly away on a 
scornful dark shoulder. 

Baskets are growing scarcer and more valuable, and 
the tourist who sees one that he desires, will be wise to 
pay the price demanded for it, as the conditions of trad- 


92 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


ing with the Alaskan Indians are rapidly changing. The 
younger Indians frequently speak and understand Eng¬ 
lish perfectly; while the older ones are adepts in reading 
a human face; making a combination not easily imposed 
upon. Even the officers of the ship, who, being ac¬ 
quainted with “ Mollie ” or “ Sallie,” “ Mrs. Sam ” or 
“ Pete’s Wife,” volunteer to buy a basket at a reduction 
for some enthusiastic but thin-pursed passenger, do not 
at present meet with any exhilarating success. 

“ S’pose she pay my price,” “ Mrs. Sam ” replies, with 
smiling but stubborn indifference, as she sets the basket 
away. 


CHAPTER VII 


Indian basketry is poetry, music, art, and life itself 
woven exquisitely together out of dreams, and sent out 
into a thoughtless world in appealing messages which 
will one day be farewells, when the poor lonely dark 
women who wove them are no more. 

At its best, the basketry of the islands of Atka and 
Attu in the Aleutian chain is the most beautiful in the 
world. Most of the basketry now sold as Attu is woven 
by the women of Atka, we were told at Unalaska, which 
is the nearest market for these baskets. Only one old 
woman remains on Attu who understands this delicate 
and priceless work; and she is so poorly paid that she 
was recently reported to be in a starving condition, al¬ 
though the velvety creations of her old hands and brain 
bring fabulous prices to some one. The saying that an 
Attu basket increases a dollar for every mile as it travels 
toward civilization, is not such an exaggeration as it 
seems. I saw a trader from the little steamer Bora —the 
only one regularly plying those far waters — buy a small 
basket, no larger than a pint bowl, for five dollars in 
Unalaska; and a month later, on another steamer, between 
Valdez and Seattle, an enthusiastic young man from New 
York brought the same basket out of his stateroom and 
proudly displayed it. 

“ I got this one at a great bargain,” he bragged, with 
shining eyes. “I bought it in Valdez for twenty-five 
dollars, just what it cost at Unalaska. The man needed 

93 


94 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


the money worse than the basket. I don’t know how it 
is, but I’m always stumbling on bargains like that!” he 
concluded, beginning to strut. 

Then I was heartless enough to laugh, and to keep on 
laughing. I had - greatly desired that basket myself ! 

He had the satisfaction of knowing, however, that his 
little twined bowl, with the coloring of a Behring Sea 
sunset woven into it, would be worth fifty dollars by the 
time he reached Seattle, and at least a hundred in New 
York; and it was so soft and flexible that he could fold 
it up meantime and carry it in his pocket, if he chose,— to 
say nothing of the fact that Elizabeth Propokoffono, the 
young and famed dark-eyed weaver of Atka, may have 
woven it herself. Like the renowned “ Sally-bags,” made 
by Sally, a Wasco squaw, the baskets woven by Elizabeth 
have a special and sentimental value. If she would weave 
her initials into them, she might ask, and receive, any price 
she fancied. Sally, of the Wascos, on the other hand, is 
very old; no one weaves her special bag, and they are be¬ 
coming rare and valuable. They are of plain, twined 
weaving, and are very coarse. A small one in the writer’s 
possession is adorned with twelve fishes, six eagles, three 
dogs, and two and a half men. Sally is apparently a 
woman-suffragist of the old school, and did not consider 
that men counted for much in the scheme of Indian 
baskets; yet, being a philosopher, as well as a suffragist, 
concluded that half a man was better than none at all. 

At Yakutat “Mrs. Pete” is the best-known basket 
weaver. Young, handsome, dark-eyed, and clean, with a 
chubby baby in her arms, she willingly, and with great 
gravity, posed against the pilot-house of the old Santa 
Ana for her picture. Asked for an address to which I 
might send one of the pictures, she proudly replied, “Just 
Mrs. Pete, Yakutat.” Her courtesy was in marked con¬ 
trast to the exceeding rudeness with which the Sitkan 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


95 


women treat even the most considerate and deferential 
photographers; glaring at them, turning their backs, 
covering their heads, hissing, and even spitting at them. 

However, the Yakutats do not often see tourists, who, 
heaven knows, are not pne of the novelties of the Sitkans’ 
lives. 

According to Lieutenant G. T. Emmons, who is the 
highest authority on Thlinkit Indians, not only so far as 
their basketry is concerned, but their history, habits, and 
customs, as well, nine-tenths of all their basketwork is of 
the open, cylindrical type which throws the chief wear 
and strain upon the borders. These are, therefore, of 
greater variety than those of any other Indians, except 
possibly the Haidahs. 

As I have elsewhere stated, nearly all Thlinkit baskets 
are of the twined weave, which is clearly described by 
Otis Tufton Mason in his precious and exquisite work, 
“ Aboriginal American Basketry ”; a work which every 
student of basketry should own. If anything could be as 
fascinating as the basketry itself, it would be this charm¬ 
ingly written and charmingly illustrated book. 

Basketry is either hand-woven or sewed. Hand-woven 
work is divided into checker work, twilled work, wicker 
work, wrapped work, and twined work. Sewed work is 
called coiled basketry. 

Twined work is found on the Pacific Coast from Attu 
to Chile, and is the most delicate and difficult of all woven 
work. It has a set of warp rods, and the weft elements 
are worked in by two-strand or three-strand methods. 
Passing from warp to warp, these weft elements are 
twisted in half-turns on each other, so as to form a two- 
strand or three-strand twine or braid, and usually with a 
deftness that keeps the glossy side of the weft outward. 

“The Thlinkit, weaving,” says Lieutenant Emmons, 
“sits with knees updrawn to the chin, feet close to the 


96 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


body, bent-shouldered, with the arms around the knees, 
the work held in front. Sometimes the knees fall slightly 
apart, the work held between them, the weft frequently 
held in the mouth, the feet easily crossed. The basket is 
held bottom down. In all kinds of weave, the strands 
are constantly dampened by dipping the fingers in water.” 
The finest work of Attu and Atka is woven entirely under 
water. A rude awl, a bear’s claw or tooth, are the only 
implements used. The Attu weaver has her basket in¬ 
verted and suspended by a string, working from the bot¬ 
tom down toward the top. 

Almost every part of plants is used — roots, stems, 
bark, leaves, fruit, and seeds. The following are the 
plants chiefly used by the Thlinkits: The black shining 
stems of the maidenhair fern, which are easily distin¬ 
guished and which add a rich touch; the split stems of 
the brome-grass as an overlaying material for the white 
patterns of spruce-root baskets ; for the same purpose, the 
split stem of bluejoint; the stem of wood reed-grass; the 
stem of tufted hair-grass ; the stem of beech-rye ; the root 
of horsetail, which works in a rich purple; wolf moss, 
boiled for canary-yellow dye ; manna-grass; root of the 
Sitka spruce tree ; juice of the blueberry for a purple dyk. 

The Attu weaver uses the stems and leaves of grass, 
having no trees and few plants. When she wants the 
grass white, it is cut in November and hung, points down, 
out-doors to dry ; if yellow be desired, as it usually is, it is 
cut in July and the two youngest full-grown blades are 
cut out'and split into three pieces, the middle one being 
rejected and the others hung up to dry out-doors ; if green 
is wanted, the grass is prepared as for yellow, except that 
the first two weeks of curing is carried on in the heavy 
shade of thick grasses, then it is taken into the house 
and dried. Curing requires about a month, during which 
time the sun is never permitted to touch the grass. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 97 

Ornamentation by means of color is wrought by the 
use of materials which are naturally of a different color; 
by the use of dyed materials; by overlaying the weft and 
warp with strips of attractive material before weaving; 
by embroidering on the texture during the process of 
manufacture, this being termed “ false ” embroidery ; by 
covering the texture with plaiting, called imbrication; by 
the addition of feathers, beads, shells, and objects of like 
nature. 

Some otherwise fine specimens of ,Atkan basketry are 
rendered valueless, in my judgment, by the present custom 
of introducing flecks of gaily dyed wool, the matchless 
beauty of these baskets lying in their delicate, even weav¬ 
ing, and in their exquisite natural coloring— the faintest 
old rose, lavender, green, yellow and purple being woven 
together in one ravishing mist of elusive splendor. So 
enchanting to the real lover of basketry are the creations 
of those far lonely women’s hands and brains, that they 
seem fairly to breathe out their loveliness upon the air, as 
a rose. 

This basketry was first introduced to the world in 1874, 
by William H. Dali, to whom Alaska and those who love 
Alaska owe so much. Warp and weft are both of beach 
grass or wild rye. One who has never seen a fine speci¬ 
men of these baskets has missed one of the joys of this 
world. 

The Aleuts perpetuate no story or myth in their orna¬ 
mentation. With them it is art for art’s sake; and this 
is, doubtless, one reason why their work draws the be¬ 
holder spellbound. 

The symbolism of the Thlinkit is charming. It is found 
not alone in their basketry, but in their carvings in stone, 
horn, and wood, and in Chilkaht blankets. The favorite 
designs are: shadow of a tree, water drops, salmon berry 
cut in half, the Arctic tern’s tail, flaking of the flesh of 


98 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


a fish, shark’s tooth, leaves of the fire weed, an eye, 
raven’s tail, and the crossing. It must be confessed that 
only a wild imagination could find the faintest resem¬ 
blance of the symbols woven into the baskets to the objects 
they represent. The symbol called “ shadow of a tree ” 
really resembles sunlight in moving water. 

With the Haidah hats and Chilkaht blankets, it is very 
different. The head, feet, wings, and tail of the raven, for 
instance, are easily traced. In more recent basketry the 
swastika is a familiar design. Many Thlinkit baskets 
have “ rattly ” covers. Seeds found in the crops of quail 
are woven into these covers. They are “good spirits” 
which can never escape ; and will insure good fortune to 
the owner. Woe be to him, however, should he permit 
his curiosity to tempt him to investigate ; they will then 
escape and work him evil instead of good, all the days of 
his life. 

In Central Alaska, the basketry is usually of the coiled 
variety, coarsely and very indifferently executed. Both 
spruce and willow are used. From Dawson to St. 
Michael, in the summer of 1907, stopping at every trading 
post and Indian village, I did not see a single piece of 
basketry that I would carry home. Coarse, unclean, aiid 
of slovenly workmanship, one could but turn away in pity 
and disgust for the wasted effort. 

The Innuit in the Behring Sea vicinity make both coiled 
and twined basketry from dried grasses; but it is even 
worse than the Yukon basketry, being carelessly done, — 
the Innuit infinitely preferring the carving and decorating 
of walrus ivory to basket weaving. It is delicious to find 
an Innuit who never saw a glacier decorating a paper- 
knife with something that looks like a pond lily, and 
labelling it Taku Glacier, which is three thousand miles 
to the southeastward. I saw no attempt on the Yukon, 
nor on Behring Sea, at what Mr. Mason calls imbrication, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


99 


-the beautiful ornamentation which the Indians of 
Columbia, Frazer, and Thompson rivers and of many 
Salish tribes of Northwestern Washington use to distin¬ 
guish their coiled work. It resembles knife-plaiting 
before it is pressed flat. This imbrication is frequently 
of an exquisite, dull, reddish brown over an old soft yel 
low. Baskets adorned with it often have handles and flat 
covers; but papoose baskets and covered long baskets, 
almost as large as trunks, are common. 

There was once a tide in my affairs which, not being 
taken at the flood, led on to everlasting regret. 

One August evening several years ago I landed on an 
island in Puget Sound where some Indians were camped 
for the Ashing season. It was Sunday; the men were 
playing the fascinating gambling game of slahal, the 
children were shouting at play, the women were gathered 
in front of their tents, gossiping. 

In one of the tents I found a coiled, imbricated Thomp¬ 
son River basket in old red-browns and yellows. It was 
three and a half feet long, two and a half feet high, and 
two and a half wide, with a thick,- close-fitting cover. 
It was offered to me for ten dollars, and — that I should 
live to chronicle it ! — not knowing the worth of such a 
basket, I closed my eyes to its appealing and unforget¬ 
table beauty, and passed it by. 

But it had, it has, and it always will have its silent 
revenge. It is as bright in my memory to-day as it was 
in my vision that August Sunday ten years ago, and more 
enchanting. My longing to see it again, to possess it 
increases as the years go by. Never have I seen its equal, 
never shall I. Yet am I ever looking for that basket, in 
every Indian tent or hovel I may stumble upon — in 
villages, in camps, in out-of-the-way places. Sure am I that 
I should know it from all other baskets, at but a glance. 

I knew nothing of the value of baskets, and I fancied 


100 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


the woman was taking advantage of my ignorance. 
While I hesitated, the steamer whistled. It was all over 
in a moment; my chance was gone. I did not even 
dream how greatly I desired that basket until I stood in 
the bow of the steamer and saw the little white camp fade 
from view across the sunset sea. 

The priginal chaste designs and symbols of Thlinkit, 
Haidah, and Aleutian basketry are gradually yielding, 
before the coarse taste of traders and tourists, to the 
more modern and conventional designs. I have lived to 
see a cannery etched upon an exquisitely carved paper- 
knife ; while the things produced at infinite labor and 
care and called cribbage-boards are in such bad taste that 
tourists buying them become curios themselves. 

The serpent has no place in Alaskan basketry for the 
very good reason that there is not a snake in all Alaska, 
and’the Indians and Innuit probably never saw one. A 
woman may wade through the swampiest place or the 
tallest grass without one shivery glance at her pathway 
for that little sinuous ripple which sends terror to most 
women’s hearts in warmer climes. Indeed, it is claimed 
that no poisonous thing exists in Alaska. 

The tourist must not expect to buy baskets farther north 
than Skaguay, where fine ones may be obtained at very 
reasonable prices. Having visited several times every 
place where basketry is sold, I would name first Dundas> 
then Yakutat, and then Sitka as the most desirable places 
for “shopping,” so far as southeastern Alaska is concerned; 
out “to Westward,” first Unalaska and Dutch Harbor, 
then Kodiak and Seldovia. 

But the tourists who make the far, beautiful voyage out 
among the Aleutians to Unalaska might almost be counted 
annually upon one’s fingers — so unexploited are the 
attractions of that region ; therefore, I will add that fine 
specimens of the Attu and Atka work may be found at 

























































Copyright by F. H. Nowell, Seattle 

Eskimo in Walrus-skin Kamelayka 






ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


101 


Wrangell, Juneau, Skaguay, and Sitka, without much 
choice, either in workmanship or price. But fortunate 
may the tourist consider himself who travels this route 
on a steamer that gathers the salmon catch in August 
or September, and is taken through Icy Strait to the 
Dundas cannery. There, while a cargo of canned salmon 
is being taken aboard, the passengers have time to barter 
with the good-looking and intelligent Indians for the 
superb baskets laid out in the immense warehouse. No¬ 
where in Alaska have I seen baskets of such beautiful 
workmanship, design, shape, and coloring as at Dundas — 
excepting always, of course, the Attu and Atka ; nowhere 
have I seen them in such numbers, variety, and at such 
low prices. 

My own visit to Dundas was almost pathetic. It was 
on my return from a summer’s voyage along the coast of 
Alaska, as far westward as Unalaska. I had touched at 
every port between Dixon’s Entrance and Unalaska, and 
at many places that were not ports; had been lightered 
ashore, rope-laddered and doried ashore, had waded ashore, 
and been carried ashore on sailors’ backs; and then, with 
my top berth filled to the ceiling with baskets and things, 
with all my money spent and all my clothes worn out, 
I stood in the warehouse at Dundas and saw those dozens 
of beautiful baskets, and had them offered to me at but 
half the prices I had paid for inferior baskets. It was 
here that the summer hats and the red kimonos and the 
pretty collars were brought out, and were eagerly seized 
by the dark and really handsome Indian girls. A ten- 
dollar hat — at the end of the season ! — went for a fif- 
teen-dollar basket; a long, red woollen kimono, — whose 
warmth had not been required on this ideal trip, anyhow, 
— secured another of the same price; and may heaven 
forgive me, but I swapped one twenty-two-inch gold- 
embroidered belt for a tliree-dollar basket, even while I 


102 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


knew in my sinful heart that there was not a waist in 
that warehouse that measured less than thirty-five inches ; 
and from that to fifty! 

However, in sheer human kindness, I taught the girl to 
whom I swapped it how it might be worn as a garter, 
and her delight was so great and so unexpected that it 
caused me some apprehension as to the results. My very 
proper Scotch friend and travelling companion was so 
aghast at my suggestion that she took the girl aside and 
advised her to wear the belt for collars, cut in half, or as 
a gay decoration up the front plait of her shirt-waist, or 
as armlets; so that, with it all, I was at last able to 
retire to my stateroom and enjoy my bargains with a 
clear conscience, feeling that after some fashion the girl 
would get her basket’s worth out of the belt. 


CHAPTER VIII 


« 


Leaving Wrangell, the steamer soon passes, on the 
port side and at the entrance to Sumner Strait, Zarembo 
Island, named for that Lieutenant Zarembo who so suc¬ 
cessfully prevented the Britishers from entering Stikine 
River. Baron Wrangell bestowed the name, desiring in 
his gratitude and appreciation to perpetuate the name 
and fame of the intrepid young officer. 

From Sumner Strait the famed and perilously beautiful 
Wrangell Narrows is entered. This ribbon-like water-way 
is less than twenty miles long, and in many places so 
narrow that a stone may be tossed from shore to shore. 
It winds between Mitkoffi and Kupreanoff islands, and 
may be navigated only at certain stages of the tide. 
Deep-draught vessels do not attempt Wrangell Narrows, 
but turn around Cape Decision and proceed by way of 
Chatham Strait and Frederick Sound — a course which 
adds at least eighty miles to the voyage. 

The interested voyager will not miss one moment of 
the run through the narrows, either for sleep or hunger. 
Better a sleepless night or a dinnerless day than one min¬ 
ute lost of this matchless scenic attraction. 

The steamer pushes, under slow bell, along a channel 
which, in places, is not wider than the steamer itself. Its 
sides are frequently touched by the long strands of kelp 
that cover the sharp and dangerous reefs, which may be 
plainly seen in the clear water. 

The timid passenger, sailing these narrows, holds his 
103 


104 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


breath a good part of the time, and casts anxious glances 
at the bridge, whereon the captain and his pilots stand 
silent, stern, with steady, level gaze set upon the course. 
One moment’s carelessness, ten seconds of inattention, 
might mean the loss of a vessel in this dangerous strait. 

Intense silence prevails, broken only by the heavy, slow 
throb of the steamer and the swirl of the brown water in 
whirlpools over the rocks; and these sounds echo far. 

The channel is marked by many buoys and other sig¬ 
nals. The island shores on both sides are heavily wooded 
to the water, the branches spraying out over the water in 
bright, lacy green. The tree trunks are covered with 
pale green moss, and long moss-fringes hang from the 
branches, from the tips of the trees to the water’s edge. 
The effect is the same as that of festal decoration. 

Eagles may always be seen perched motionless upon 
the tall tree-tops or upon buoys. 

The steamship Colorado went upon the rocks between 
Spruce and Anchor points in 1900, where her storm- 
beaten hull still lies as a silent, but eloquent, warning of 
the perils of this narrow channel. 

The tides roaring in from the ocean through Frederick 
Sound on the north and Sumner Strait on the south m£et 
near Finger Point in the narrows. 

Sunrise and sunset effects in this narrow channel are 
justly famed. I once saw a mist blown ahead of my 
steamer at sunset that, in the vivid brilliancy of its min¬ 
gled scarlets, greens, and purples, rivalled the coloring of 
a humming-bird. 

At dawn, long rays of delicate pink, beryl, and pearl 
play through this green avenue, deepening in color, fad¬ 
ing, and withdrawing like Northern Lights. When the 
scene is silvered and softened by moonlight, one looks for 
elves and fairies in the shadows of the moss-dripping 
spruce trees. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


105 


The silence is so intense and the channel so narrow, 
that frequently at dawn wild birds on the shores are heard 
saluting the sun with song; and never, under any other 
circumstances, has bird song seemed so nearly divine, so 
golden with magic and message, as when thrilled through 
the fragrant, green stillness of Wrangell Narrows at such 
an hour. 

I was once a passenger on a steamer that lay at anchor 
all night in Sumner Strait, not daring to attempt the Nar¬ 
rows on account of storm and tide. A stormy sunset 
burned about our ship. The sea was like a great, scarlet 
poppy, whose every wave petal circled upward at the 
edges to hold a fleck of gold. Island upon island stood 
out through that riot of color in vivid, living green, and 
splendid peaks shone burnished against the sky. 

There was no sleep that night. Music and the dance 
held sway in the cabins for those who cared for them, 
and for the others there was the beauty of the night. In 
our chairs, sheltered by the great smoke-stacks of the 
hurricane-deck, we watched the hours go by—each hour 
a different color from the others — until the burned-out 
red of night had paled into the new sweet primrose of 
dawn. The wind died, leaving the full tide “that, mov¬ 
ing, seems asleep”; and no night was ever warmer and 
sweeter in any tropic sea than that. 

Wrangell Narrows leads into Frederick Sound—so 
named by Whidbey and Johnstone, who met there, in 
1794, on the birthday of Frederick, Duke of York. 

Vancouver’s expedition actually ended here, and the 
search for the “Strait of Anian” was finally aban¬ 
doned. 

Several glaciers are in this vicinity: Small, Patterson, 
Summit, and Le Conte. The Devil’s Thumb, a spire¬ 
shaped peak on the mainland, rises more than two thou¬ 
sand feet above the level of the sea, and stands guard 


106 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


over Wrangell Narrows and the islands and glaciers of 
the vicinity. 

On Soukhoi Island fox ranches were established about 
five years ago; they are said to be successful. 

The Thunder Bay Glacier is the first on the coast that 
discharges bergs. The thunder-like roars with which the 
vast bulks of beautiful blue-white ice broke from the 
glacier’s front caused the Indians to believe this bay to 
be the home of the thunder-bird, who always produces 
thunder by the flapping of his mighty wings. 

Baird Glacier is in Thomas Bay, noted for its scenic 
charms, — glaciers, forestation, waterfalls, and sheer 
heights combining to give it a deservedly wide reputation 
among tourists. Elephant’s Head, Portage Bay, Farragut 
Bay, and Cape Fanshaw are important features of the 
vicinity. The latter is a noted landmark and storm- 
point. It fronts the southwest, and the full fury of the 
fiercest storms beats mercilessly upon it. Light craft fre¬ 
quently try for days to make this point, when a wild 
gale is blowing from the Pacific. 

Of the scenery to the south of Cape Fanshaw, Whidbey 
reported to Vancouver, on his final trip of exploration in 
August, 1794, that “the mountains rose abruptly to a pro¬ 
digious height ... to the South, a part of them pre¬ 
sented an uncommonly awful appearance, rising with an 
inclination towards the water to a vast height, loaded 
with an immense quantity of ice and snow, and overhang¬ 
ing their base, which seemed to be insufficient to bear the 
ponderous fabric it sustained, and rendered the view of 
the passage beneath it horribly magnificent.” 

At the Cape he encountered such severe gales that a 
whole day and night were consumed in making a distance 
of sixteen miles. 

There are more fox ranches on “ The Brothers ” Islands, 
and soon after passing them Frederick Sound narrows into 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


101 


Stephens’ Passage. Here, to starboard, on the mainland, 
is Mount Windham, twenty-five hundred feet in height, in 
Windham Bay. 

Gold was discovered in this region in the early seven¬ 
ties, and mines were worked for a number of years before 
the Juneau and Treadwell excitement. The mountains 
abound in game. 

Sumdum is a mining town in Sumdum, or Holkhan 
Bay. The fine, live glacier in this arm is more perfectly 
named than any other in Alaska — Sum-dum, as the 
Indians pronounce it, more clearly describing the deep 
roar of breaking and falling ice, with echo, than any other 
syllables. 

Large steamers do not enter this bay; but small craft, 
at slack-tide, may make their way among the rocks and 
icebergs. It is well worth the extra expense and trouble 
of a visit. 

To the southwest of Cape Fanshaw, in Frederick Sound, 
is Turnabout Island, whose suggestive name is as forlorn 
as Turnagain Arm, in Cook Inlet, where Cook was forced 
to “ turn again ” on what proved to be his last voyage. 

Stephens’ Passage is between the mainland and Admi¬ 
ralty Island. This island barely escapes becoming three 
or four islands. Seymour Canal, in the eastern part, 
almost guts off a large portion, which is called Glass 
Peninsula, the connecting strip of land being merely a 
portage; Kootznahoo Inlet cuts more than halfway across 
from west to east, a little south of the centre of the island; 
and at the northern end had Hawk Inlet pierced but a 
little farther, another island would have been .formed. 
The scenery along these inlets, particularly Kootznahoo, 
where the lower wooded hills rise from sparkling blue 
waters to glistening snow peaks, is magnificent. Whid- 
bey reported that although this island appeared to be 
composed of a rocky substance covered with but little 


108 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


soil, and that chiefly consisting of vegetables in an imper¬ 
fect state of dissolution, yet it produced timber which he 
considered superior to any he had before observed on the 
western coast of America. 

It is a pity that some steamship company does not run at 
least one or two excursions during the summer to the little- 
known and unexploited inlets of southeastern Alaska—to 
the abandoned Indian villages, graveyards, and totems; 
the glaciers, cascades, and virgin spruce glades; the roar¬ 
ing narrows and dim, sweet fiords, where the regular pas¬ 
senger and “tourist” steamers do not touch. A month 
might easily be spent on such a trip, and enough nature- 
loving, interested, and interesting people could be found 
to take every berth — without the bugaboo, the increasing 
nightmare of the typical tourist, to rob one of his pleasure. 

At present an excursion steamer sails from Seattle, and 
from the hour of its sailing the steamer throbs through the 
most beautiful archipelago in the world, the least known, 
and the one most richly repaying study, making only five 
or six landings, and visiting two glaciers at most. It is 
quite true that every moment of this “ tourist ” trip of ten 
days is, nevertheless, a delight, if the weather be favor¬ 
able ; that the steamer rate is remarkably cheap, and thbt 
no one can possibly regret having made this trip if he can¬ 
not afford a longer one in Alaska. But this does not alter 
the fact that there are hundreds of people who would 
gladly make the longer voyage each summer, if transpor¬ 
tation were afforded. Local transportation in Alaska is 
so expensive that few can afford to go from place to place, 
waiting for steamers, and paying for boats and guides for 
every side trip they desire to make. 

Admiralty Island is rich in gold, silver, and other min¬ 
erals. There are whaling grounds in the vicinity, and a 
whaling station was recently established on the southwest¬ 
ern end of the Island, near Surprise Harbor and Murder 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


109 


Cove. Directly across Chatham Strait from this station, 
on Baranoff Island, only twenty-five miles from Sitka, are 
the famous Sulphur Hot Springs. 

There are fine marble districts on the western shores of 
Admiralty Island. 

On the southern end are Woewodski Harbor and Pybas 
Bay. 

Halfway through Stephens’ Passage are the Midway 
Islands, and but a short distance farther, on the mainland, 
is Port Snettisham, a mining settlement on an arm whose 
northern end is formed by Cascades Glacier, and from 
whose southern arm musically and exquisitely leaps a cas¬ 
cade which is the only rival of Sarah Island in the affec¬ 
tions of mariners — Sweetheart Falls. 

Who so tenderly named this cascade, and for whom, I 
have not been able to learn; but those pale green, foam- 
crested waters shall yet give up their secret. Never 
would Vancouver be suspected of such naming. Had he 
so prettily and sentimentally named it, the very waters 
would have turned to stone in their fall, petrified by 
sheer amazement. 

The scenery of Snettisham Inlet is the finest in this 
vicinity of fine scenic effects, with the single exception of 
Taku Glacier. 

In Taku Harbor is an Indian village, called Taku, where 
may be found safe anchorage, which is frequently required 
in winter, on account of what are called “Taku winds.” 
Passing Grand Island, which rises to a wooded peak, the 
steamer crosses the entrance to Taku Inlet and enters 
Gastineau Channel. 

There are many fine peaks in this vicinity, from two to 
ten thousand feet in height. 

The stretch of water where Stephens’ Passage, Taku 
Inlet, Gastineau Channel, and the southeastern arm of 
Lynn Canal meet is in winter dreaded by pilots. A 


no 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


squall is liable to come tearing down Taku Inlet at any 
moment and meet one from some other direction, to the 
peril of navigation. 

At times a kind of fine frozen mist is driven across by 
the violent gales, making it difficult to see a ship’s length 
ahead. At such times the expressive faces on the bridge 
of a steamer are psychological studies. 

In summer, however, no open stretch of water could 
be more inviting. Clear, faintly rippled, deep sapphire, 
flecked with the first glistening bergs floating out of the 
inlet, it leads the way to the glorious presence that lies 
beyond. 

I had meant to take the reader first up lovely Gastineau 
Channel to Juneau; but now that I have unintentionally 
drifted into Taku Inlet, the glacier lures me on. It is 
only an hour’s run, and the way is one of ever increasing 
beauty, until the steamer has pushed its prow through the 
hundreds of sparkling icebergs, under slow bell, and at 
last lies motionless. One feels as though in the presence 
of some living, majestic being, clouded in mystery. The 
splendid front drops down sheer to the water, from a 
height of probably three hundred feet. A sapphire mist 
drifts over it, without obscuring the exquisite tintings df 
rose, azure, purple, and green that flash out from the 
glistening spires and columns. The crumpled mass push¬ 
ing down from the mountains strains against the front, 
and sends towered bulks plunging headlong into the sea, 
with a roar that echoes from peak to peak in a kind of 
“linked sweetness long drawn out ” and ever diminishing. 

There is no air so indescribably, thrillingly sweet as the 
air of a glacier on a fair day. It seems to palpitate with 
a fragrance that ravishes the senses. I saw a great, re¬ 
cently captured bear, chained on the hurricane deck of a 
steamer, stand with his nose stretched out toward the 
glacier, his nostrils quivering and a look of almost human 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


111 


longing and rebellion in his small eyes. The feeling of 
pain and pity with which a humane person always be¬ 
holds a chained wild animal is accented in these wide and 
noble spaces swimming from snow mountain to snow 
mountain, where the very watchword of the silence seems 
to be “ Freedom.” The chained bear recognized the scent 
of the glacier and remembered that he had once been free. 

In front of the glacier stretched miles of sapphire, sun¬ 
lit sea, set with sparkling, opaline-tinted icebergs. Now 
and then one broke and fell apart before our eyes, sending 
up a funnel-shaped spray of color,— rose, pale green, or 
azure. 

At every blast of the steamer’s whistle great masses of 
ice came thundering headlong into the sea — to emerge 
presently, icebergs. Canoeists approach glaciers closely 
at their peril, never knowing when an iceberg may shoot 
to the surface and wreck their boat. Even larger craft 
are by no means safe, and tourists desiring a close ap¬ 
proach should voyage with intrepid captains who sail 
safely through everything. 

The wide, ceaseless sweep of a live glacier down the 
side of a great mountain and out into the sea holds a more 
compelling suggestion of power than any other action of 
nature. I have never felt the appeal of a mountain gla¬ 
cier — of a stream of ice and snow that, so far as the eye 
can discover, never reaches anywhere, although it keeps 
going forever. The feeling of forlornness with which, 
after years of anticipation, I finally beheld the renowned 
glacier of the Selkirks, will never be forgotten. It was 
the forlornness of a child who has been robbed of her 
Santa Claus, or who has found that her doll is stuffed with 
sawdust. 

But to behold the splendid, perpendicular front of a 
live glacier rising out of a sea which breaks everlastingly 
upon it; to see it under the rose and lavender of sunset 


112 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


or the dull gold of noon; to see and hear tower, minaret, 
dome, go thundering down into the clear depths and pound 
them into foam — this alone is worth the price of a trip 
to Alaska. 

We were told that the opaline coloring of the glacier 
was unusual, and that its prevailing color is an intense 
blue, more beautiful and constant than that of other gla¬ 
ciers ; and that even the bergs floating out from it were 
of a more pronounced blue than other bergs. 

But I do not believe it. I have seen the blue of the 
Columbia Glacier in Prince William Sound; and I have 
sailed for a whole afternoon among the intensely blue ice 
shallops that go drifting in an endless fleet from Glacier 
Bay out through Icy Straits to the ocean. If there be a 
more exquisite blue this side of heaven than I have seen 
in Icy Straits and in the palisades of the Columbia Gla¬ 
cier, I must see it to believe it. 

There are three glaciers in Taku Inlet: two—Wind¬ 
ham and Twin — which are at present “dead” ; and Taku, 
the Beautiful, which is very much alive. The latter was 
named Foster, for the former Secretary of the Treasury; 
but the Indian name has clung to it, which is one more 
cause for thanksgiving. 

The Inlet is eighteen miles long and about seven hun¬ 
dred feet wide. Taku River flows into it from the north¬ 
east, spreading out in blue ribbons over the brown flats; 
at high tide it may be navigated, with caution, by small 
row-boats and canoes. It was explored in early days by 
the Hudson Bay Company, also by surveyors of the West¬ 
ern Union Telegraph Company. 

Whidbey, entering the Inlet in 1794, sustained his repu¬ 
tation for absolute blindness to beauty. He found u a 
compact body of ice extending some distance nearly all 
around.” He found “frozen mountains,” “rock sides,” 
“dwarf pine trees,” and “undissolving frost and snow.” 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


113 


He lamented the lack of a suitable landing-place for boats; 
and reported the aspect in general to be “ as dreary and 
inhospitable as the imagination can possibly suggest.” 

Alas for the poor chilly Englishman ! He, doubtless, 
expected silvery-gowned ice maidens to come sliding out 
from under the glacier in pearly boats, singing and kissing 
their hands, to bear him back into their deep blue grottos 
and dells of ice, and refresh him with Russian tea from 
old brass samovars; he expected these maidens to be 
girdled and crowned with carnations and poppies, and to 
pluck winy grapes—with dust clinging to their bloomy 
roundness — from living vines for him to eat; and most 
of • all, he expected to find in some remote corner of the 
clear and sparkling cavern a big fireplace, “ which would 
remind him pleasantly of England; ” and a brilliant fire 
on a well-swept hearth, with the smoke and sparks going 
up through a melted hole in the glacier. 

About fifteen miles up Taku River, Wright Glacier 
streams down from the southeast and fronts upon the low 
and marshy lands for a distance of nearly three miles. 

The mountains surrounding Taku Inlet rise to a height 
of four thousand feet, jutting out abruptly, in places, over 
the water. 


CHAPTER IX 

Gastineau Channel is more than a mile wide at the 
entrance, and eight miles long; it narrows gradually as 
it separates Douglas Island from the mainland, and, still 
narrowing, goes glimmering on past Juneau, like a silver- 
blue ribbon. Down this channel at sunset burns the most 
beautiful coloring, which slides over the milky waters, pro¬ 
ducing an opaline effect. At such an hour this scene 
— with Treadwell glittering on one side, and Juneau on 
the other, with Mount Juneau rising in one swelling sweep 
directly behind the town — is one of the fairest in this 
country of fair scenes. 

The unique situation of Juneau appeals powerfully to 
the lover of beauty. There is an unforgettable charm in 
its narrow, crooked streets and winding, mossed stairways; 
its picturesque shops, — some with gorgeous totem-poles 
for signs, — where a small fortune may be spent on a single 
Attu or Atka basket; the glitter and the music of its 
streets and its “ places,” the latter open all night; its 
people standing in doorways and upon corners, eager to 
talk to strangers and bid them welcome ; and its gayly 
clad squaws, surrounded by fine baskets and other work 
of their brown hands. 

The streets are terraced down to the water, and many 
of the pretty, vine-draped cottages seem to be literally 
hung upon the side of the mountain. One must have 
good, strong legs to climb daily the flights of stairs that 
steeply lead to some of them. 

114 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


115 


In the heart of the town is an old Presbyterian Mission 
church, built of logs, with an artistic square tower, also 
of logs, at one corner. This church is now used as a 
brewery and soda-bottling establishment! 

The lawns are well cared for, and the homes are fur¬ 
nished with refined taste, giving evidences of genuine 
comfort, as well as luxury. 

My first sight of Juneau was at three o’clock of a dark 
and rainy autumn night in 1905. We had drifted slowly 
past the mile or more of brilliant electric lights which is 
Treadwell and Douglas ; and turning our eyes to the north, 
discovered, across the narrow channel, the lights of Juneau 
climbing out of the darkness up the mountain from the 
water’s edge. Houses and buildings we could not see ; only 
those radiant lights, leading us on, like will-o’-the-wisps. 

When we landed it seemed as though half the people of 
the town, if not the entire population, must be upon the 
wharf. It was then that we learned that it is always 
daytime in Alaskan towns when a steamer lands — even 
though it be three o’clock of a black night. 

The business streets were brilliant. Everything was 
open for business, except the banks; a blare of music 
burst through the open door of every saloon and dance- 
hall ; blond-haired “ ladies ” went up and down the 
streets in the rain and mud, bare-headed, clad in gauze 
and other airy materials, in silk stockings and satin 
slippers. They laughed and talked with men on the 
streets in groups; they were heard singing ; they were 
seen dancing and inviting the young waiters and cabin- 
boys of our steamer into their dance halls. 

“How’d you like Juneau?” asked my cabin-boy the 
next day, teetering in the doorway with a plate of oranges 
in his hand, and a towel over his arm. 

“ It seemed very lively,” I replied, “for three o’clock in 
the morning.” 


116 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


“ Oh, hours don’t cut any ice in Alaska,” said he. 
“ People in Alaska keep their clo’s hung up at the head of 
their beds, like the harness oyer a fire horse. When the 
boat whistles, it loosens the clo’s from the hook; the people 
spring out of bed right under ’em ; the clo’s fall onto ’em 
— an’ there they are on the wharf, all dressed, by the 
time the boat docks. They’re all right here, but say! 
they can’t hold a candle to the people of Valdez for gettin’ 
to the dock. They just cork you at Valdez.” 

At Juneau I went through the most brilliant business 
transaction of my life. I was in the post-office when I 
discovered that I had left my pocket-book on the steamer. 
I desired a curling-iron; so I borrowed a big silver dollar 
of a friend, and hastened away to the largest dry-goods 
shop. 

A sleepy clerk waited upon me. The curling-iron was 
thirty cents. I gave him the dollar, and he placed the 
change in my open hand. Without counting it, I went 
back to the post-office, purchased twenty-five cents’ worth 
of stamps, and gave the balance to the friend from whom 
I had borrowed the dollar. 

“Count it,” said I, “and see how much I owe you.” 

She counted it. 

“ How much did you spend ? ” she asked presently. 

“ Fifty-five cents.” 

She began to laugh wildly. 

“ You have a thirty-cent curling-iron, twenty-five cents’ 
worth of stamps, and you’ve given me back a dollar and 
sixty-five cents —all out of one silver dollar ! ” 

I counted the money. It was too true. 

With a burning face I took the change and went back 
to the store. My friend insisted upon going with me, 
although I would have preferred to see her lost on the 
Taku Glacier. I cannot endure people who laugh like 
children at everything. 



Eskimo in Bidarka 



































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


117 


The captain and several passengers were in the store. 
They heard my explanation; and they all gathered around 
to assist the polite but sleepy clerk. 

One would say that it would be the simplest thing in 
the world to straighten out that change; but the postage 
stamps added complications. Everybody figured, ex¬ 
plained, suggested, criticised, and objected. Several times 
we were quite sure we had it. Then, some one would 
titter—and the whole thing would go glimmering out of 
sight. 

However, at the end of twenty minutes it was arranged 
to the clerk’s and my own satisfaction. Several hours 
later, when we were well on our way up Lynn Canal, a 
calmer figuring up proved that I had not paid one cent 
for my curling-iron. 

From the harbor Mount Juneau has the appearance of 
rising directly out of the town — so sheer and bold is its 
upward sweep to a height of three thousand feet. Down 
its many pale green mossy fissures falls the liquid silver 
of cascades. 

It is heavily wooded in some places ; in others, the 
bare stone shines through its mossy covering, giving 
a soft rose-colored effect, most pleasing to the eye. 

Society in Juneau, as in every Alaskan town, is gay. 
Its watchword is hospitality. In summer, there are many 
excursions to glaciers and the famed inlets which lie 
almost at their door, and to see which other people travel 
thousands of miles. In winter, there is a brilliant whirl 
of dances, card parties, and receptions. “Smokers” to 
which ladies are invited are common — although they are 
somewhat like the pioneer dish of “potatoes-and-point.” 

When the pioneers were too poor to buy sufficient bacon 
for the family dinner, they hung a small piece on the wall; 
the family ate their solitary dish of potatoes and pointed 
at the piece of bacon. 


118 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


So, at these smokers, the ladies must be content to see 
the men smoke, but they might, at least, be allowed to 
point. 

Most of the people are wealthy. Money is plentiful, 
and misers are unknown. The expenditure of money for 
the purchase of pleasure is considered the best investment 
that an Alaskan can make. 

Fabulous prices are paid for luxuries in food and 
dress. 

“ I have lived in Dawson since 1897,” said a lady last 
summer, “ and have never been ill for a day. I attribute 
my good health to the fact that I have never flinched at 
the price of anything my appetite craved. Many a time 
I have paid a dollar for a small cucumber; but I have 
never paid a dollar for a drug. I have always had fruit, 
regardless of the price, and fresh vegetables. No amount 
of time or money is considered wasted on flowers. Women 
of Alaska invariably dress well and present a smart 
appearance. Many wear imported gowns and hats — and 
I do not mean imported from 4 the states,’ either — and 
costly jewels and furs are more common than in any other 
section of America. We entertain lavishly, and our 
hospitality is genuine.” 

Every traveller in Alaska will testify to the truth of 
these assertions. If a man looks twice at a dollar before 
spending it, he is soon “jolted” out of the pernicious 
habit. 

The worst feature of Alaskan social life is the “ coming 
out ” of many of the women in winter, leaving their hus¬ 
bands to spend the long, dreary winter months as they 
may. To this selfishness on the part of the women is 
due much of the intoxication and immorality of Alaska — 
few men being of sufficiently strong character to with¬ 
stand the distilled temptations of the country. 

That so many women go “ out ” in winter, is largely 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


119 


due to the proverbial kindness and indulgence of American 
husbands, who are loath to have their wives subjected to 
the rigors and the hardships of an Alaskan winter. 

However, the winter exodus may scarcely be considered 
a feature of the society of Juneau, or other towns of 
southeastern Alaska. The climate resembles that of 
Puget Sound ; there is a frequent and excellent steamship 
service to and from Seattle; and the reasons for the 
exodus that exist in cold and shut-in regions have no 
apparent existence here. 

Every business — and almost every industry — is repre¬ 
sented in Juneau. The town has excellent schools and 
churches, a library, women’s clubs, hospitals, a cham¬ 
ber of commerce, two influential newspapers, a militia 
company, a brass band — and a good brass band is a 
feature of real importance in this land of little music — an 
opera-house, and, of course, electric lights and a good 
water system. 

Juneau has for several years been the capital of Alaska ; 
but not until the appointment of Governor Wilford B. 
Hoggatt, in 1906, to succeed Governor J. G. Brady, were 
the Executive Office and Governor’s residence established 
here. So confident have the people of Juneau always 
been that it would eventually become the capital of Alaska, 
that an eminence between the town and the Auk village 
has for twenty years been called Capitol Hill. During all 
these years there has been a fierce and bitter rivalry 
between Juneau and Sitka. 

Juneau was named for Joseph Juneau, a miner who 
came, “ grubstaked,” to this region in 1880. It was the 
fifth name bestowed upon the place, which grew from a 
single camp to the modern and independent town it is 
to-day — and the capital of one of the greatest countries 
in the world. 

In its early days Juneau passed through many exciting 


120 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


and charming vicissitudes. Anything but monotony is 
welcomed by a town in Alaska ; and existence in Juneau 
in the eighties was certainly not monotonous. 

The town started with a grand stampede and rush, 
which rivalled that of the Klondike seventeen years later ; 
the Treadwell discovery and attendant excitement came 
during the second year of its existence, and a guard of 
marines was necessary to preserve order, until, upon its 
withdrawal, a vigilance committee took matters into its 
own hands, with immediate beneficial results. 

The population of Juneau is about two thousand, which 
— like that of all other northern towns—is largely in¬ 
creased each fall by the miners who come in from the hills 
and inlets to “winter.” 

In the middle eighties there were Chinese riots. The 
little yellow men were all driven out of town, and their 
quarters were demolished by a mob. 

A recent attempt to introduce Hindu labor in the 
Treadwell mines resulted as disastrously. 



























♦ 



























Railroad Construction, Eyak Lake 













CHAPTER X 


Treadwell! Could any mine employing stamps have 
a more inspiring name, unless it be Stampwell ? It fairly 
forces confidence and success. 

Douglas Island, lying across the narrow channel from 
Juneau, is twenty-five miles long and from four to nine 
miles wide. On this island are the four famous Tread¬ 
well mines, owned by four separate companies, but having 
the same general managership. 

Gold was first discovered on this island in 1881. Sorely 
against his will, John Treadwell was forced to take some 
of the original claims, having loaned a small amount upon 
them, which the borrower was unable to repay. 

Having become possessed of these claims, a gambler’s 
“hunch” impelled him to buy an adjoining claim from 
“French Pete” for four hundred dollars. On this claim 
is now located the famed “ Glory Hole.” 

This is so deep that to one looking down into it the 
men working at the bottom and along the sides appear 
scarcely larger than flies. Steep stairways lead, winding, 
to the bottom of this huge quartz bowl; but visitors to 
the dizzy regions below are not encouraged, on account of 
frequent blasting and danger of accidents. 

It is claimed that Treadwell is the largest quartz mine 
in the world, and that it employs the largest number of 
stamps — nine hundred. The ore is low grade, not yield¬ 
ing an average of more than two dollars to the ton; but 
it is so easily mined and so economically handled that the 

121 


122 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


mines rank with the Calumet and Hecla, of Michigan; 
the Comstock Lode mines, of Nevada; the Homestake, of 
South Dakota ; and the Portland, of Colorado. 

The Treadwell is the pride of Alaska. Its poetic situ¬ 
ation, romantic history, and admirable methods should 
make it the pride of America. 

Its management has always been just and liberal. It 
has had fewer labor troubles than any other mine in 
America. 

There are two towns on the island — Treadwell and 
Douglas. The latter is the commercial and residential 
portion of the community — for the towns meet and min¬ 
gle together. 

The entire population, exclusive of natives, is three 
thousand people — a population that is constantly increas¬ 
ing, as is the demand for laborers, at prices ranging from 
two dollars and sixty cents per day up to five dollars for 
skilled labor. 

The island is so brilliantly lighted by electricity that 
to one approaching on a dark night it presents the appear¬ 
ance of a city six times its size. 

The nine hundred stamps drop ceaselessly, day and 
night, with only two holidays in a year — Christmas 
and the Fourth of July. The noise is ferocious. In the 
stamp-mill one could not distinguish the boom of a can¬ 
non, if it were fired within a distance of twenty feet, from 
the deep and continuous thunder of the machinery. 

In 1881 the first mill, containing five stamps, was built 
and commenced crushing ore that came from a streak 
twenty feet wide. This ore milled from eight to ten dol¬ 
lars a ton, proving to be of a grade sufficiently high to pay 
for developing and milling, and leave a good surplus. 

It was soon recognized that the great bulk of the ore 
was extremely low grade, and that, consequently, a large 
milling capacity would be required to make the enterprise 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


123 


a success. A one-hundred-and-twenty-stamp-mill was 
erected and began crushing ore in June, 1885. At the 
end of three years the stamps were doubled. In another 
year three hundred additional stamps were dropping. 
Gradually the three other mines were opened up and the 
stamps were increased until nine hundred were dropping. 

The shafts are from seven to nine hundred feet below 
sea level, and one is beneath the channel; yet very little 
water is encountered in sinking them. Most of the water 
in the mines comes from the surface and is caught up and 
pumped out, from the first level. 

The net profits of these mines to their owners are said 
to be six thousand dollars a day; and mountains of ore 
are still in sight. 

Our captain obtained permission to take us down into 
the mine. This was not so difficult as it was to elude the 
other passengers. At last, however, we found ourselves 
shut into a small room, lined with jumpers, slickers, and 
caps. 

Shades of the things we put on to go under Niagara 
Falls! 

“ Get into this! ” commanded the captain, holding a 
sticky and unclean slicker for me. “ And make haste ! 
There’s no time to waste for you to examine it. Finicky 
ladies don’t get two invitations into the Treadwell. Put 
in your arm.” 

My arm went in. When an Alaskan sea captain speaks, 
it is to obey. Who last wore that slicker, far be it from 
me to discover. Chinaman, leper, Jap, or Auk — it mat¬ 
tered not. I was in it, then, and curiosity was sternly 
stifled. 

“Now put on this cap.” Then beheld mine eyes a cap 
that would make a Koloshian ill. 

“ Must I put that on?” 

I whispered it, so the manager would not hear. 


124 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


“You must put this on. Take off your hat.” 

My hat came off, and the cap went on. It was pushed 
down well over my hair; down to my eyebrows in the 
front and down to the nape of my neck in the back. 

“There! ” said the captain, cheerfully. “You needn’t 
be afraid of anything down in the mine now.” 

Alas! there was nothing in any mine, in any world, 
that I dreaded as I did what might be in that cap. 

There were four of us, with the manager, and there 
was barely room on the rather dirty “ lift ” for us. 

We stood very close together. It was as dark as a 
dungeon. 

“Now — look out! ” said the manager. 

As we started, I clutched somebody — it did not matter 
whom. I also drew one wild and amazed breath; before 
I could possibly let go of that one—to say nothing of 
drawing another—there was a bump, and we were in a 
level one thousand and eighty feet below the surface of 
the earth. 

We stepped out into a brilliantly lighted station, with 
a high, glittering quartz ceiling. The swift descent had 
so affected my hearing that I could not understand a word 
that was spoken for fully five minutes. None of my com¬ 
panions, however, complained of the same trouble. 

It has been the custom to open a level at every hundred 
and ten feet; but hereafter the distance between levels in 
the Treadwell mine will be one hundred and fifty feet. 

At each level a station, or chamber, is cut out, as wide 
as the shaft, from forty to sixty feet in length, and having 
an average height of eight feet. A drift is run from the 
shaft for a distance of twenty-five feet, varying in height 
from fifteen feet in front to seven at the back. The main 
crosscut is then started at right angles to the station drift. 

From east and west the “ drifts ” run into this cross¬ 
cut, like little creeks into a larger stream. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


125 


No one has ever accused me of being shy in the matter 
of asking questions. It was the first time I had been 
down in one of the famous gold mines of the world, and I 
asked as many questions as a woman trying to rent a 
forty-dollar house for twenty dollars. Between shafts, 
stations, ore bins, crosscuts, stopes, drifts, levels, and 
winzes, it was less than fifteen minutes before I felt the 
cold moisture of despair breaking out upon my brow. 
Winzes proved to be the last straw. I could* get a glim¬ 
mering of what the other things were; but -winzes! 

The manager had been polite in a forced, friend-of-the- 
captain kind of way. He was evidently willing to answer 
every question once, but whenever I forgot and asked the 
same question twice, he balked instantly. Exerting 
every particle of intelligence I possessed, I could not 
make out the difference between a stope and a station, 
except that a stope had the higher ceiling. 

“I have told you the difference three times already,” 
cried the manager, irritably. 

The captain, back in the shadow, grinned sympa¬ 
thetically. 

“Nor’-nor’-west, nor’-by-west, a-quarter-nor’,” said he, 
sighing. “ She’ll learn your gold mine sooner than she’ll 
learn my compass.” 

Then they both laughed. They laughed quite a while, 
and my disagreeable friend laughed with them. For my¬ 
self, I could not see anything funny anywhere. 

I finally learned, however, that a station is a place cut 
out for a stable or for the passage of cars, or other things 
requiring space; while a stope is a room carried to the 
level of the top of the main crosscut. It is called a stope 
because the ore is “ stoped ” out of it. 

But winzes! What winzes are is still a secret of the 
ten-hundred-and-eighty-foot level of the Treadwell mine. 

Tram-cars filled with ore, each drawn by a single horse, 


126 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


passed us in every drift — or was it in crosscuts and levels ? 
One horse had been in the mine seven years without 
once seeing sunlight or fields of green grass; without 
once sipping cool water from a mountain creek with quiv¬ 
ering, sensitive lips; without once stretching his aching 
limbs upon the soft sod of a meadow, or racing with hk 
fellows upon a hard road. 

But every man passing one of these horses gave him an 
affectionate pat, which was returned by a low, pathetic 
whinny of recognition and pleasure. 

44 One old fellow is a regular fool about these horses,” 
said the manager, observing our interest. 44 He’s always 
carrying them down armfuls of green grass, apples, sugar, 
and everything a horse will eat. You’d ought to hear 
them nicker at sight of him. If they pass him in a drift, 
when he hasn’t got a thing for them, they’ll nicker and 
nicker, and keep turning their heads to look after him. 
Sometimes it makes me feel queer in my throat.” * 

No one can by any chance know what noise is until he 
has stood at the head of a drift and heard three Ingersoll- 
Sergeant drills beating with lightning-like rapidity into 
the walls of solid quartz for the purpose of blasting. 

Standing between these drills and within three feet of 
them, one suddenly is possessed of the feeling that his 
sense of hearing has broken loose and is floating around 
in his head in waves. This feeling is followed by one of 
suffocation. Shock succeeds shock until one’s very mind 
seems to go vibrating away. 

At a sign from the manager the silence is so sudden 
and so intense that it hurts almost as much as the 
noise. 

There is a fascination in walking through these high- 
ceiled, brilliantly lighted stopes, and these low-ceiled, 
shadowy drifts. Walls and ceilings are gray quartz, glit¬ 
tering with gold. One is constantly compelled to turn 


A LA SKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


127 


aside for cars of ore on their way to the dumping-places, 
where their burdens go thundering to the levels be¬ 
low. 

At last the manager paused. 

“ I suppose,” said he, sighing, “ you wouldn’t care to 
see the —” 

I did not catch the last word, and had no notion what 
it was, but I instantly assured him that I would rather see 
it than anything in the whole mine. 

His face fell. 

“ Really—” he began. 

“Of course we’ll see it,” said the captain; “we want 
to see everything.” 

The manager’s face fell lower. 

“All right,” said he, briefly, “come on! ” 

We had gone about twenty steps when I, who was 
close behind him, suddenly missed him. He was gone. 

Had he fallen into a dump hole ? Had he gone to 
atoms in a blast? I blinked into the shadows, standing 
motionless, but could see no sign of him. 

Then his voice shouted from above me — “ Come on ! ” 

I looked up. In front of me a narrow iron ladder led 
upward as straight as any flag-pole, and almost as high. 
Where it went, and why it went, mattered not. The only 
thing that impressed me was that the manager, halfway 
up this ladder, had commanded me to “come on.” 

I? to “come on! ” up that perpendicular ladder whose 
upper end was not in sight! 

But whatever might be at the top of that ladder, I had 
assured him that I would rather see it than anything in 
the whole mine. It was not for me to quail. I took firm 
hold of the cold and unclean rungs, and started. 

When we had slowly and painfully climbed to the. top, 
we worked our way through a small, square hole and 
emerged into another stope, or level, and in a very dark 


128 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


part of it. Each man worked by the light of a single 
candle. They were stoping out ore and making it ready 
to be dumped into lower levels — from which it would 
finally be hoisted out of the mine in skips. 

The ceiling was so low that we could walk only in a 
stooping position. The laborers worked in the same posi¬ 
tion ; and what with this discomfort and the insufficient 
light, it would seem that their condition was unenviable. 
Yet their countenances denoted neither dissatisfaction 
nor ill-humor. 

“Well,” said the manager, presently, “you can have it 
to say that you have been under the bay, anyhow.” 

“ Under the — ” 

“Yes; under Gastineau Channel. That’s straight. It 
is directly over us.” 

We immediately decided that we had seen enough of 
the great mine, and cheerfully agreed to the captain’s 
suggestion that we return to the ship. We were com¬ 
pelled to descend by the perpendicular ladder ; and the 
descent was far worse than the ascent had been. 

On our way to the “ lift ” by which we had made our 
advent into the mine, we met another small party. It 
was headed by a tall and handsome man, whose air of 
delicate breeding would attract attention in any gather¬ 
ing in the world. His distinction and military bearing 
shone through his greasy slicker and greasier cap — which 
he instinctively fumbled, in a futile attempt to lift it, as 
we passed. 

It was that brave and gallant explorer, Brigadier-Gen¬ 
eral Greely, on his way to the Yukon. He was on his 
last tour of inspection before retirement. It was his fare¬ 
well to the Northern country which he has served so faith¬ 
fully and so well. 

One stumbles at almost every turn in Alaska upon some 
world-famous person who has answered Beauty’s far, 



Eyaic Lake, near Cordova 




















ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


129 


insistent call. The modest, low-voiced gentleman at one’s 
side at the captain’s table is more likely than not a cele¬ 
brated explorer or geologist, writer or artist; or, at the 
very least, an earl. 

“ After we’ve seen our passengers eat their first meal,” 
said the chief steward, “we know howto seat them. You 
can pick out a lady or a gentleman at the table without 
fail. A boor can fool you every place except at the 
table. We never assign seats until after the first meal; 
and oftener than you would suppose we seat them accord¬ 
ing to their manners at the first meal.” 

I smiled and smiled, then, remembering the first meal 
on our steamer. It was breakfast. We had been down 
to the dining room for something and, returning, found 
ourselves in a mob at the head of the stairs. 

There were one hundred and sixty-five passengers on 
the boat, and fully one hundred and sixty of them were 
squeezed like compressed hops around that stairway. In 
two seconds I was a cluster of hops myself, simply that 
and nothing more. I do not know how the compressing 
of hops is usually accomplished; but in my particular 
case it was done between two immensely big and dis¬ 
agreeable men. They ignored me as calmly as though I 
were a little boy, and talked cheerfully over my head, 
although it soon developed that they were not in the 
least acquainted. 

A little black-ringleted, middle-aged woman who 
seemed to be mounted on wires, suddenly squeezed her 
head in under their arms, simpering. 

“ Oh, Doctor ! ” twittered she, coquettishly. “ You are 
talking to my husband .” 

“ The deuce ! ” ejaculated the Doctor, but whether with 
evil intent or not, I could not determine from his face. 

“Yes, truly. Doctor Metcalf, let me introduce my 
husband, Mr. Wildey.” 


130 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


They shook hands on my shoulder —but I didn’t mind 
a little thing like that. 

“ On your honeymoon, eh ? ” chuckled the Doctor, ami¬ 
ably. The other big man grew red to his hair, and the 
lady’s black ringlets danced up and down. 

“ Now, now, Doctor,” chided she, shaking a finger at 
him, —she was at least fifty, — “ no teasing. No steamer 
serenades, you know. I was on an Alaskan steamer once, 
and they pinned red satin hearts all over a bride’s state¬ 
room door. Just fancy getting up some morning and 
finding my stateroom door covered with red satin hearts ! ” 

“ I can smell mackerel,” said a shrill tenor behind me; 
and alas! so could I. If there be anything that I like 
the smell of less than a mackerel, it is an Esquimau hut 
only. 

Somebody sniffed delightedly. 

“ Fried, too,” said a happy voice. “ Can’t you squeeze 
down closer to the stairway ? ” 

Almost at once the big man behind me was tipped for¬ 
ward into the big man in front of me — and, as a mere 
incident in. passing, of course, into me as well. We all 
went tipping and bobbing and clutching toward the stair¬ 
way. 

Life does not hold many half-hours so rich and so full 
as the one that followed. As a revelation of the baser 
side of human nature, it was precious. 

My friend was tall; and once, far down the saloon, I 
caught a glimpse of her handsome, well-carried head as 
the mob parted for an instant. The expression on her 
face was like that on the face of the Princess de Lamballe 
when Lorado Taft has finished with her. 

Suddenly I began to move forward. Rather, I was 
borne forward without effort on my part. A great wave 
seemed to pick me up and carry me to the head of the 
stairway. I fairly floated down into the dining room. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


131 


I fell into the first chair at the first table I came to; but 
the mob flowed by, looking for something better. Every 
woman was on a mad hunt for the captain’s table. My 
table remained unpeopled until my friend caine in and 
found me. Gradually and reluctantly the chairs were 
filled and we devoted ourselves to the mackerel. 

In a far corner at the other end of the room, there was 
a table with flowers on it. With a sigh of relief I saw 
black ringlets dancing thereat. 

“Thank heaven!” I said. “The bride is at the cap¬ 
tain’s table.” 

“ Ho, no, ma’am,” said the gentle voice of the waiter in 
my ear. “ You’re hat hit yourself, ma’am. You’re hin 
the captain’s hown seat, ma’am. ’E don’t come down to 
the first meal, though, ma’am,” he added hastily, seeing 
my look of horror. For the first, last, and, I trust, only, 
time in my life I had innocently seated myself at a 
captain’s table, without an invitation. 

After breakfast we hastened on deck and went through 
deep-breathing exercises for an hour, trying to work our¬ 
selves back to our usual proportions. 

I should like to see a chief steward seat that mob. 

I was greatly amused, by the way, at a young waiter’s 
description of an earl. 

“We have lots of earls goin’ up,” said he, easily. “ Oh, 
yes; they go up to Cook Inlet and Kodiak to hunt big 
game. I always know an earl the first meal. He makes 
me pull his corks, and he gives me a quarter or a half for 
every cork I pull. Sometimes I make six bits or a dollar 
at a meal, just pulling one earl’s corks. I’d rather wait 
on earls than anybody — except ladies, of course,” he 
added, with a positive jerk of remembrance; whereupon 
we both smiled. 


CHAPTER XI 


Gastineau Channel northwest of Juneau is not 
navigable for craft drawing more than three feet of 
water, at high tide. 

Coming out of the channel the steamer turns around 
the southern end of Douglas Island and heads north into 
Lynn Canal, with Admiralty Island on the port side and 
Douglas on the starboard. 

Directly north of the latter island is Mendenhall Glacier, 
formerly known as the Auk. The Indians of this vicinity 
bear the same name, and have a village north of Juneau. 
They were a warlike offshoot of the Hoonahs, and bore a 
bad reputation for treachery and unreliability. Only a 
few now remain. 

In the neighborhood of this glacier — at which the 
steamer does not call but which may be plainly seen 
streaming down — are several snow mountains, from five 
thousand to seven thousand feet in height. They seem 
hardly worthy of the name of mountain in Alaska; but 
they float so whitely and so beautifully above the deep 
blue waters of Lynn Canal that the voyager cannot mis¬ 
take their mission. 

Shelter Island, west of Mendenhall Glacier, forms two 
channels — Saginaw and Favorite. The latter, as indi¬ 
cated by its name, is the one followed by steamers going 
to Skaguay. Saginaw is taken by steamers gping down 
Chatham Straits, or Icy Straits, to Sitka. 

Sailing up Favorite Channel, Eagle Glacier is passed 
132 















































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


133 


on the starboard side. It is topped by a great crag which 
so closely resembles in outline our national emblem that 
it was so named by Admiral Beardslee, in 1879. The 
glacier itself is not of great importance. 

On Benjamin Island, a fair anchorage may be secured 
for vessels bound north which have unfortunately been 
caught in a strong northwest gale. 

After the dangerous Vanderbilt Reef is passed, Point 
Bridget and Point St. Mary’s are seen at the entrance to 
Berner’s Bay, where is situated the rich gold mine belong¬ 
ing to Governor Hoggatt. 

A light was established in 1905 on Point Sherman; 
also, on Eldred Rock, where the Clara Nevada went down, 
in 1898, with the loss of every soul on board. For ten 
years repeated attempts to locate this wreck have been 
made, on account of the rich treasure which the ship was 
supposed to carry; but not until 1908 was it discovered 
— when, upon the occurrence of a phenomenally low tide, 
it was seen gleaming in clear green depths for a few 
hours by the keeper of the lighthouse. There was a 
large loss of life. 

There is a mining and mill settlement at Seward, in 
this vicinity. 

William Henry Bay, lying across the canal from Berner’s, 
is celebrated as a sportsman’s resort, although this recom¬ 
mendation has come to bear little distinction in a country 
where it is so common. Enormous crabs, rivalling those 
to the far “ Westward,” are found here. Their meat is 
not coarse, as would naturally be supposed, because of 
their great size, but of a fine flavor. 

Seduction Point, on the island bearing the same name, 
lies between Chilkaht Inlet on the west and Chilkoot 
Inlet on the east. For once, Vancouver rose to the oc¬ 
casion and bestowed a striking name, because at this point 
the treacherous Indians tried to lure Whidbey and his 


134 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


men up the inlet to their village. Upon his refusal to go, 
they presented a warlike front, and the sincerity of their 
first advances was doubted. 

At the entrance to Chilkaht Inlet, Davidson Glacier is 
seen sweeping down magnificently from near the summit 
of the White Mountains. Although this glacier does not 
discharge bergs, nor rise in splendid tinted palisades 
straight from the water, as do Taku and Columbia, it is, 
nevertheless, very imposing — especially if seen from the 
entrance of the inlet at sunset of a clear day. 

The setting of the glaciers of Lynn Canal is superb. 
The canal itself, named by Vancouver for his home in 
England, is the most majestic slender water-way in Alaska. 
From Puget Sound, fiord after fiord leads one on in ever 
increasing, ever changing splendor, until the grand climax 
is reached in Lynn Canal. 

For fifty-five miles the sparkling blue waters of the 
canal push almost northward. Its shores are ^practically 
unbroken by inlets, and rise in noble sweeps or stately 
palisades, to domes and peaks of snow. Glaciers may be 
seen at every turn of the steamer. Not an hour—not 
one mile of this last fifty-five — should be missed. 

In winter the snow descends to the water’s edge and 
this stretch is exalted to sublimity. The waters of the 
canal take on deep tones of purple at sunset; fires of 
purest old rose play upon the mountains and glaciers ; 
and the clear, washed-out atmosphere brings the peaks 
forward until they seem to overhang the steamer throb¬ 
bing up between them. 

Lynn Canal is really but a narrowing continuation of 
Chatham Strait. Together they form one grand fiord, 
two hundred miles in length, with scarcely a bend, ex¬ 
tending directly north and south. From an average width 
of four or five miles, they narrow, in places, to less than 
half a mile. 


ALA SKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


135 


In July, 1794, Vancouver, lying at Port A1 thorp, in 
Cross Sound, sent Mr. Whidbey to explore the continen¬ 
tal shore to the eastward. Mr. Whidbey sailed through 
Icy Strait, seeing the glacier now known as the Brady 
Glacier, and rounding Point Couverden, sailed up Lynn 
Canal. 

Here, as usual, he was simply stunned by the grandeur 
and magnificence of the scenery, and resorted to his pet 
adjectives. 

“ Both sides of this arm were bounded by lofty , stupen¬ 
dous mountains , covered with perpetual ice and snow , whilst 
the shores in this neighborhood appeared to be composed 
of cliffs of very fine slate, interspersed with beaches of 
very fine paving stone. ... Up this channel the boats 
passed, and found the continental shore now take a direc¬ 
tion N. 22 W., to a point where the arm narrowed to two 
miles across ; from whence it extended ten miles further in 
a direction N. 30 W., where its navigable extent termi¬ 
nated in latitude 59° 12', longitude 224° 33'. This sta¬ 
tion was reached in the morning of the 16th, after passing 
some islands and some rocks nearly in mid-channel.” (It 
was probably on one of these that the Clara Nevada was 
wrecked a hundred years later.) “ Above the northern- 
. s of these (which lies four miles below the shoal that 
xtends across the upper part of the arm, there about a 
mile in width) the water was found to be perfectly fresh. 
Along the edge of this shoal, the boats passed from side 
to side, in six feet water, and beyond it, the head of the 
arm extended about half a league, where a small opening 
in the land was seen, about the fourth of a mile wide, lead¬ 
ing to the northwestward, from whence a rapid stream of 
fresh water rushed over the shoal” (this was Chilkaht 
River). “ But this, to all appearance, was bounded at no 
great distance by a continuation of the same lofty ridge 
of snowy mountains so repeatedly mentioned, as stretch- 


136 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


ing eastwardly from Mount Fair weather, and which, in 
every point of view they had hitherto been seen, appeared 
to be a firm and close-connected range of stupendous 
mountains , forever doomed to support a burthen of undissolv¬ 
ing ice and snow.” 

Here, it will be observed, Wliidbey was so unconsciously 
wrought upon by the sublimity of the country that he was 
moved to fairly poetic utterance. He seemed, however, 
to be himself doomed to support forever a burthen of 
gloom and undissolving weariness as heavy as that borne 
by the mountains. 

Up this river, or, as Whidbey called it, brook , the 
Indians informed him, eight chiefs of great consequence 
resided in a number of villages. He was urged to visit 
them. Their behavior was peaceable, civil, and friendly ; 
but Mr. Whidbey declined the invitation, and returning, 
rounded, and named, Point Seduction, and passing into 
Chilkoot Inlet, discovered more “ high, stupendous moun¬ 
tains, loaded with perpetual ice and snow.” 

After exploring Chilkoot Inlet, they returned down 
the canal, soon falling in with a party of friendly Indians, 
who made overtures of peace. Mr. Whidbey describes 
their chief as a tall, thin, elderly man. He was dressed 
superbly, and supported a degree of state, consequen • 
and personal dignity which had been found among n^ 
other Indians. His external robe was a very fine large 
garment that reached from his neck down to his heels, 
made of wool from the mountain goat — the famous 
Chilkaht blanket here described, for the first time, by the 
unappreciative Whidbey. It was neatly variegated with 
several colors, and edged and otherwise decorated with 
little tufts of woollen yarn, dyed of various colors. His 
head-dress was made of wood, resembling a crown, and 
adorned with bright copper and brass plates, whence hung 
a number of tails, or streamers, composed of wool and fur 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 137 

worked together, dyed of various colors, and each termi¬ 
nating in a whole ermine skin. 

His whole appearance, both as to dress and manner, was 
magnificent. 

Mr. Whidbey was suspicious of the good intentions of 
these new acquaintances, and was therefore well prepared 
for the trouble that followed. 

Headed by the splendid chief, the Indians attacked 
Whidbey’s party in boats, and, being repulsed, followed 
for two days. 

As the second night came on boisterously, Mr. Whidbey 
was compelled to seek shelter. The Indians, understand¬ 
ing his design, hastened to shore in advance, got possession 
of the Only safe beach, drew up in battle array, and 
stood with spears couched, ready to receive the explor¬ 
ing party. (This was on the northern part of Admiralty 
Island.) 

Here appears the most delicious piece of unintentional 
humor in all Vancouver’s narrative. 

“ There was now no alternative but either to force a 
landing by firing upon them, or to remain at their oars all 
night. The latter Mr. Whidbey considered to be not 
only the most humane, but the most prudent to adopt, 
concluding that their habitations were not far distant, 
and believing them, from the number of smokes that 
had been seen during the day, to be a very numerous 
tribe.” 

They probably appeared more “ stupendous ” than any 
snow-covered mountain in poor Mr. Whidbey’s startled 
eyes. 

To avoid a “ dispute ” with these “ troublesome people,” 
Mr. Whidbey withdrew to the main canal and stopped 
“ to take some rest ” at a point which received the 
felicitous name of Point Retreat, on the northern part of 
Admiralty Island — a name which it still retains. 


138 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


In the following month Mr. Whidbey was compelled to 
rest again upon his extremely humane spirit, to the south¬ 
ward in Frederick Sound. 

“The day being fair and pleasant,” chronicles Van¬ 
couver, “ Mr. Whidbey wished to embrace this opportunity 
of drying their wet clothes, putting their arms in order. 
. . . For this purpose the party landed on a commodious 
beach; but before they had finished their business a large 
canoe arrived, containing some women and children, and 
sixteen stout Indian men, well appointed with the arms of 
the country. . . . Their conduct afterward put on a 
very suspicious appearance ; the children withdrew into the 
woods, and the rest fixed their daggers round their wrists, 
and exhibited other indications not of the most friendly 
nature. To avoid the chance of anything unpleasant 
taking place, Mr. Whidbey considered it most humane and 
prudent to withdraw ” — which he did, with all possible 
despatch. 

They were pursued by the Indians; this conduct 
“greatly attracting the observation of the party.” 

Mr. Whidbey did not scruple to fire into a fleeing canoe; 
nor did he express any sorrow when “most hideous and 
extraordinary noises ” indicated that he had fired to good 
effect; but the instant the Indians lined up in considerable 
numbers with “ couched spears ” and warlike attitude, the 
situation immediately became “stupendous” and Whid- 
bey’s ever ready “ humaneness ” came to his relief. 


CHAPTER XII 


The Davidson Glacier was named for Professor George 
Davidson, who was one of its earliest explorers. A heavy 
forest growth covers its terminal moraine, and detracts 
from its lower beauty. 

Pyramid Harbor, at the head of Chilkaht Inlet, has an 
Alaska Packers’ cannery at the base of a mountain which 
rises as straight as an arrow from the water to a height 
of eighteen hundred feet. This mountain was named 
Labouchere , for the Hudson Bay Company’s steamer 
which, in 1862, was almost captured by the Hoonah Ind¬ 
ians at Port Frederick in Icy Strait. 

Pyramid Harbor was named for a small pyramid-shaped 
island which now bears the same name, but of which the 
Indian name is Schlayhotch. The island is but little 
more than a tiny cone, rising directly from the water. 
Indians camp here, in large numbers in the summer-time, 
to work in the canneries. The women sell berries, baskets, 
Chilkaht blankets of deserved fame, and other curios. 

It was this harbor which the Canadians in the Joint 
High Commission of 1898 unblushingly asked the United 
States to cede to them, together with Chilkaht Inlet and 
River, and a strip of land through the lisiere owned by us. 

The Chilkaht River flows into this inlet from the north¬ 
west. At its mouth it widens into low tide flats, over 
which, at low tide, the water flows in ribbonish loops. 
Here, during a “ run,” the salmon are taken in countless 
thousands. 


139 


140 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The Chilkahts and Chilkoots are the great Indians of 
Alaska. They comprise the real aristocracy. They are 
a brave, bold, courageous race ; saucy and independent, 
constantly carrying a “chip on the shoulder,” or a “feather 
pointing forward ” in the head-gear. They are looked up 
to and feared by the Thlinkits of inferior tribes. 

Their villages are located up the Chilkaht and Chilkoot 
rivers; and their frequent mountain journeyings have de¬ 
veloped their legs, giving them a well-proportioned, athletic 
physique, in marked contrast to the bowed- and scrawny- 
legged canoe dwellers to the southward and westward. 

They are skilful in various kinds of work; but their 
fame will eventually endure in the exquisite dance- 
blankets, known as the Chilkaht blanket. These blankets 
are woven of the wool of the mountain goat, whose 
winter coat is strong and coarse. At shedding time in 
the spring, as the goat leaps from place to place, the wool 
clings to trees, rocks, and bushes in thick festoons. 
These the indolent Indians gather for the weaving of 
their blankets, rather than take the trouble of killing 
the goats. 

This delicate and beautiful work is, like the Thlinkit 
and Chilkaht basket, in simple twined weaving. The 
warp hangs loose from the rude loom, and the wool is 
woven upward, as in Attu and Haidah basketry. 

The owner of one of the old Chilkaht blankets pos¬ 
sesses a treasure beyond price. The demand has cheap¬ 
ened the quality of those of the present day; but those 
of Baranoff’s time were marvels of skill and coloring, 
considering that Indian women’s dark hands were the 
only shuttles. 

Black, white, yellow, and a peculiar blue are the colors 
most frequently observed in these blankets; and a 
deep, rich red is becoming more common than formerly. 
A wide black, or dark, band usually surrounds them, 


ALASKA: TEE GREAT COUNTRY 


141 


border-wise, and a fringe as wide as the blanket falls 
magnificently from the bottom; a narrower one from 
the sides. 

The old and rare ones were from a yard and a half 
to two yards long. The modern ones are much smaller, 
and may be obtained as low as seventy-five dollars. The 
designs greatly resemble those of the Haidah hats and 
basketry. 

The full face, with flaring nostrils, small eyes, and 
ferocious display of teeth, is the bear; the eye which 
appears in all places and in all sizes is that of the thunder- 
bird, or, with the Haidahs, the sacred raven. 

There is an Indian mission, named Klukwan, at the 
head of the inlet. 

The Chilkahts were governed by chiefs and sub-chiefs. 
At the time of the transfer “Kohklux” was the great 
chief of the region. He was a man of powerful will and 
determined character. He wielded a strong influence 
over his tribes, who believed that he bore a charmed life. 
He was friendly to Americans and did everything in his 
power to assist Professor George Davidson, who went to 
the head of Lynn Canal in 1869 to observe the solar total 
eclipse. 

The Indians apparently placed no faith in Professor 
Davidson’s announcement of approaching darkness in 
the middle of the day, however, and when the eclipse 
really occurred, they fled from him, as from a devil, and 
sought the safety of their mountain fastnesses. 

The passes through these mountains they had held 
from time immemorial against all comers. The Indians 
of the vast interior regions and those of the coast could 
trade only through the Chilkahts—the scornful aristo¬ 
crats and powerful autocrats of the country. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Coming out of Chilkaht Inlet and passing around 
Seduction Point into Chilkoot Inlet, Katscliin River 
is seen flowing in from the northeast. The mouth of 
this river, like that of the Chilkaht, spreads into exten¬ 
sive flats, making the channel very narrow at this point. 

Across the canal lies Haines Mission, where, in 1883, 
Lieutenant Schwatka left his wife to the care of Doctor 
and Mrs. Willard, while he was absent on his exploring 
expedition down the Yukon. 

The Willards were in charge of this mission, which 
was maintained by the Presbyterian Board of Missions, 
until some trouble arose with the Indians over the death 
of a child, to whom the Willards had administered 
medicines. 

“ Crossing the Mission trail,” writes Lieutenant 
Schwatka, “ we often traversed lanes in the grass, which 
here was fully five feet high, while, in whatever direc¬ 
tion the eye might look, wild flowers were growing in 
the greatest profusion. Dandelions as big as asters, 
buttercups twice the usual size, and violets rivalling the 
products of cultivation in lower latitudes were visible 
around. It produced a singular and striking contrast 
to raise the eyes from this almost tropical luxuriance, 
and allow them to rest on Alpine hills, covered halfway 
down their shaggy sides with the snow and glacier ice, 
and with cold mist condensed on their crowns. . . . 
Berries and berry blossoms grew in a profusion and 

142 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


143 


variety which I have never seen equalled within the same 
limits in lower latitudes.” 

This was early in June. Here the lieutenant first 
made the acquaintance of the Alaska mosquito and gnat, 
neither of which is to he ignored, and may be propitiated 
by good red blood only; also, the giant devil’s-club, 
which he calls devil’s-sticks. He was informed that this 
nettle was formerly used by the shamans, or medicine¬ 
men, as a prophylactic against witchcraft, applied ex¬ 
ternally. 

The point of this story will be appreciated by all who 
have come in personal contact with this plant, so tropical 
in appearance when its immense green leaves are spread 
out flat and motionless in the dusk of the forest. 

From Chilkoot Inlet the steamer glides into Taiya In¬ 
let, which leads to Skaguay. Off this inlet are many 
glaciers, the finest of which is Ferebee. 

Chilkoot Inlet continues to the northwestward. Chil¬ 
koot River flows from a lake of the same name into the 
inlet. There are an Indian village and large canneries on 
the inlet. 

Taiya Inlet leads to Skaguay and Dyea. It is a nar¬ 
row water-way between high mountains which are covered 
nearly to their crests with a heavy growth of cedar and 
spruce. They are crowned, even in summer, with snow, 
which flows down their fissures and canyons in small but 
beautiful glaciers, while countless cascades foam, spar¬ 
kling, down to the sea, or drop sheer from such great 
heights that the beholder is bewildered by their slow, 
never ceasing fall. 

Here, — at the mouth of the Skaguay River, with moun¬ 
tains rising on all sides and the green waters of the inlet 
pushing restlessly in front; with its pretty cottages 
climbing over the foot-hills, and with well-worn, flower- 
strewn paths enticing to the heights ; with the Skaguay’s 


144 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


waters winding over the grassy flats like blue ribbons; 
with flower gardens beyond description and boxes in every 
window scarlet with bloom ; with cascades making liquid 
and most sweet music by day and irresistible lullabies by 
night, and with snow peaks seeming to float directly over 
the town in the upper pearl-pink atmosphere—is Skag- 
uay, the romantic, the marvellous, the town which grew 
from a dozen tents to a city of fifteen thousand people 
almost in a night, in the golden year of ninety-eight. 

I could not sleep in Skaguay for the very sweetness of 
the July night. A cool lavender twilight lingered until 
eleven o’clock, and then the large moon came over the 
mountains, first outlining their dark crests with fire ; then 
throbbing slowly on from peak to peak — bringing irre¬ 
sistibly to mind the lines : — 

“ Like a great dove with silver wings 
Stretched, quivering o’er the sea, 

The moon her glistening plumage brings 
And hovers silently.” 

The air was sweet to enchantment with flowers; and 
all night long through my wide-open window came the 
far, dreamy, continuous music of the water-falls. 

On all the Pacific Coast there is not a more interesting, 
or a more profitable, place in which to make one’s head¬ 
quarters for the summer, than Skaguay. More side trips 
may be made, with less expenditure of time and money, 
from this point than from any other. Launches may be 
hired for expeditions down Lynn Canal and up the inlets, 
— whose unexploited splendors may only be seen in this 
way; to the Mendenhall, Davidson, Denver, Bertha, and 
countless smaller glaciers; to Haines, Fort Seward, Pyra¬ 
mid Harbor, and Seduction Point; while by canoe, horse, 
or his own good legs, one may get to the top of Mount 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


145 


Dewey and to Dewey Lake; up Face Mountain; to 
Dyea ; and many hunting grounds where mountain sheep, 
bear, goat, ptarmigan, and grouse are plentiful. 

The famous White Pass railway — which was built in 
eighteen months by the 44 Three H’s,” Heney, Hawkins, 
and Hislop, and which is one of the most wonderful en¬ 
gineering feats of the world — may be taken for a trip 
which is, in itself, worth going a thousand miles to enjoy. 
Every mile of the way is historic ground — not only to 
those who toiled over it in ’ninety-seven and ’ninety-eight, 
bent almost to the ground beneath their burdens, but to 
the whole world, as well. The old Brackett wagon road; 
White Pass City; the 44 summit”; Bennett Lake; Lake 
Lindeman; White Horse Rapids; Grand Canyon; Por¬ 
cupine Ridge — to whom do these names not stand for 
tragedy and horror and broken hearts? 

The town of Skaguay itself is more historic than any 
other point. Here the steamers lightered or floated 
ashore men, horses, and freight. 44 You pay your money 
and you take your chance,” the paraphrase went in those 
days. Many a man saw every dollar he had in provisions 
— and often it was a grubstake, at that — sink to the 
bottom of the canal before his eyes. Others saw their 
outfits soaked to ruin with salt water. For those who 
landed safely, there were horrors yet to come. 

And here, between these mountains, in this wind-racked 
canyon, the town of Skaguay grew; from one tent to 
hundreds in a day, from hundreds to thousands in a 
week; from tents to shacks, from shacks to stores and 
saloons. Here 44 Soapy ” Smith and his gang of outlaws 
and murderers operated along the trail; here he was 
killed; here is his dishonored grave, between the moun¬ 
tains which will not endure longer than the tale of his 
desperate crimes, and his desperate expiation. 

Not the handsome style of man that one would expect 


146 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


of such a bold and daring robber was “Soapy.” No 
flashing black eyes, heavy black hair, and long black mus¬ 
tache made him “ a living flame among women,” as Rex 
Beach would put it. Small, spare, insignificant in ap¬ 
pearance, it has been said that he looked more like an ill- 
paid frontier minister than the head of a lawless and 
desperate gang of thieves. 

His “ spotters ” were scattered along the trail all the 
way to Dawson. They knew what men were “ going in,” 
what ones “ coming out,” “heeled.” Such men were al¬ 
ways robbed; if not on the road, then after reaching 
Skaguay; when they could not safely, or easily, be robbed 
alive, they were robbed dead. It made no difference to 
“ Soapy ” or his gang of men and women. It was a reign 
of terror in that new, unknown, and lawless land. 

There is nothing in Skaguay to-day — unless it be the 
sinking grave of “ Soapy ” Smith, which is not found by 
every one — to suggest the days of the gold rush, to the 
transient visitor. It is a quiet town, where law and order 
prevail. It is built chiefly on level ground, with a few 
very long streets — running out into the alders, balms, 
spruces, and cottonwoods, growing thickly over the river’s 
flats. 

In all towns in Alaska the stores are open for business 
on Sunday when a steamer is in. If the door of a curio- 
store, which has tempting baskets or Chilkaht blankets 
displayed in the window, be found locked, a dozen small 
boys shout as one, “Just wait a minute, lady. Propri’- 
tor’s on the way now. He just stepped out for breakfast. 
Wait a minute, lady.” 

We arrived at Skaguay early on a Sunday morning, and 
were directed to the “ ’bus ” of the leading hotel. We rode 
at least a mile before reaching it. We found it to be a 
wooden structure, four or five stories in height; the large 
office was used as a kind of general living-room as well. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


147 


The rooms were comfortable and the table excellent. The 
proprietress grows her own vegetables and flowers, and 
keeps cows, chickens, and sheep, to enrich her table. 

About ten o’clock in the forenoon we went to the sta¬ 
tion to have our trunks checked to Dawson. The doors 
stood open. We entered and passed from room to room. 
There was no one in sight. The square ticket window 
was closed. 

We hammered upon it and upon every closed door. 
There was no response. We looked up the stairway, but 
it had a personal air. There are stairways which seem to 
draw their steps around them, as a duchess does her furs, 
and to give one a look which says, “ Do not take liber¬ 
ties with me ! ” — while others seem to be crying, 
“ Come up; come up ! ” to every passer-by. I have never 
seen a stairway that had the duchess air to the degree that 
the one in the station at Skaguay has it. If any one 
doubts, let him saunter around that station until he finds 
the stairway and then take a good look at itr 

We went outside, and I, being the questioner of the 
party, asked a man if the ticket office would be open that 
day. 

He squared around, put his hands in his pockets, bent 
his wizened body backward, and gave a laugh that echoed 
down the street. 

“ God bless your soul, lady,” said he, “ on Sunday! 
Only an extry goes out on Sundays, to take round-trip 
tourists to the summit and back while the steamer waits. 
To-day’s extry has gone.” 

“ Yes,” said I, mildly but firmly, “but we are going to 
Dawson to-morrow. Our train leaves at nine o’clock, and 
there will be so many to get tickets signed and baggage 
checked — ” 

He gave another laugh. 

“ Don’t you worry, lady. Take life easy, the way we 


148 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


do here. If we miss one train, we take the next — unless 
we miss it, too! ” He laughed again. 

At that moment, bowing and smiling in the window of 
the ticket office, appeared a man — the nicest man! 

“Will you see him bow !” gasped my friend. “Is he 
bowing at us ? Why — are you bowing back?” 

“ Of course I am.” 

“ What on earth does he want ? ” 

“ He wants to be nice to us,” I replied; and she followed 
me inside. 

The nice face was smiling through the little square 
window. 

“ I was upstairs,” he said — ah, he had descended by 
way of the “ Duchess,” “ and I heard you rapping on 
windows and doors ” — the smile deepened, “ so I came 
down to see if I could serve you.” 

We related our woes ; we got our tickets signed and 
our baggage checked ; had all our questions answered — 
and they were not few—and the following morning ate 
our breakfast at our leisure and were greatly edified by 
our fellow-travellers’ wild scramble to get their bills paid 
and to reach the station in time to have their baggage 
checked. 



Photo by P. S. Hunt 








































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CHAPTER XIV 


Sailing down Lynn Canal, Chatham Strait, and the nar¬ 
row, winding Peril Strait, the sapphire-watered and 
exquisitely islanded Bay of Sitka is entered from the 
north. Six miles above the Sitka of to-day adarge wooden 
cross marks the site of the first settlement, the scene of 
the great massacre. 

On one side are the heavily and richly wooded slopes 
of Baranoff Island, crested by many snow-covered peaks 
which float in the higher primrose mist around the bay; 
on the other, water avenues — growing to paler, silvery 
blue in the distance — wind in and out among the green 
islands to the far sea, glimpses of which may be had; 
while over all, and from all points for many miles, the 
round, deeply cratered dome of Edgecumbe shines white 
and glistening in the sunlight. It is the superb feature 
of the landscape; the crowning glory of a scene that 
would charm even without it. 

Mount Edgecumbe is the home of Indian myth and 
legend — as is Nass River to the southeastward. In 
appearance, it is like no other mountain. It is less than 
four thousand feet high, but it is so round and symmetri¬ 
cal, it is so white and sparkling, seen either from the 
ocean or from the inner channels, and its crest is sunken 
so evenly into an unforgettable crater, that it instantly 
impresses upon the beholder a kind of personality among 
mountains. 

In beauty, in majesty, in sublimity, it neither approaches 
149 


150 ALASKA: TEE GREAT COUNTRY 

nor compares with twenty other Alaskan mountains which 
I have seen ; but, like the peerless Shishaldin, to the far 
westward, it stands alone, distinguished by its unique 
features from all its sister peaks. 

Not all the streams of lava that have flowed down its 
sides for hundreds of years have dulled its brilliance or 
marred its graceful outlines. 

I have searched Vancouver’s chronicles, expecting to 
lined Edgecumbe described as “ a mountain having a very 
elegant hole in the top,” — to match his “ elegant fork ” 
on Mount Olympus of Puget Sound. 

Peril Strait is a dangerous reach leading in sweeping 
curves from Chatham Strait to Salisbury Sound. It is 
the watery dividing line between Chichagof! and Baranoff 
islands. It has two narrows, where the rapids at certain 
stages of the tides are most dangerous. 

Upon entering the strait from the east, it is found to 
be wide and peaceful. It narrows gradually until it 
finally reaches, in its forty-mile windings, a width of less 
than a hundred yards. 

There are several islands in Peril Strait : Fairway and 
Trader’s at the entrance; Broad and Otstoi on the star¬ 
board; Pouverstoi, Elovoi, Rose, and Kane. Between Otstoi 
and Pouverstoi islands is Deadman’s Reach. Here are Peril 
Point and Poison Cove, where Baranoff lost a hundred 
Aleuts by their eating of poisonous mussels in 1799. For 
this reason the Russians gave it the name, Pogibshi, which, 
interpreted, means “ Destruction,” instead of the 44 Perni¬ 
cious ” or 44 Peril ” of the present time. 

Deadman’s Reach is as perilous for its reefs as for its 
mussels, lloggatt Reef, Dolpli Rock, Ford Rock, Elovoi 
Island, and Krugloi Reef are all dangerous obstacles to 
navigation, making this reach as interestingly exciting as 
it is beautiful. 

Fierce tides race through Sergius Narrows, and steamers 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


151 


going to and from Sitka are guided by the careful calcu¬ 
lation of their masters, that they may arrive at the narrows 
at the favorable stage of the tides. Bores, racing several 
feet high, terrific whirlpools, and boiling geysers make it 
impossible for vessels to approach when the tides are at 
their worst. This is one of the most dangerous reaches 
in Alaska. 

Either Rose or Adams Channel may be used going to 
Sitka, but the latter is the favorite. 

Kakul Narrows leads into Salisbury Sound; but the 
Sitkan steamers barely enter this sound ere they turn to 
the southeastward into Neva Strait. It was named by 
Portlock for the Marquis of Salisbury. 

Entrance Island rises between Neva Strait and St. John 
the Baptist Bay. There are both coal and marble in the 
latter bay. 

Halleck Island is completely surrounded by Nakwasina 
Passage and Olga Strait, joining into one grand canal of 
uniform width. 

All these narrow, tortuous, and perilous water-ways wind 
around the small islands that lie between Baranoff Island 
on the east and Kruzoff Island on the west. Baranoff is 
one hundred and thirty miles long and as wide as thirty 
miles in places. Kruzoff Island is small, but its southern 
extremity, lying directly west of Sitka, shelters that 
favored place from the storms of the Pacific. 

Whitestone Narrows in the southern end of Neva Strait 
is extremely narrow and dangerous, owing to sunken 
rocks. Deep-draught vessels cannot enter at low tide, 
but must await the favorable half-hour. 

Sitka Sound is fourteen miles long and from five to 
eight wide. It is more exquisitely islanded than any 
other bay in the world ; and after passing the site of Bara- 
noff’s first settlement and Old Sitka Rocks, the steamer’s 
course leads through a misty emerald maze. Sweeping 


152 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


slowly around the green shore of one island, a dozen others 
dawn upon the beholder’s enraptured vision, frequently 
appearing like a solid wall of green, which presently parts 
to let the steamer slide through, — when, at once, another 
dazzling vista opens to the view. 

Before entering Sitka Sound, Halleck, Partoffs-Chigoff, 
and Krestoff are the more important islands; in Sitka 
Sound, Crow, Apple, and Japonski. The latter island is 
world-famous. It is opposite, and very near, the town; 
it is about a mile long, and half as wide ; its name, “Japan,” 
was bestowed because, in 1805, a Japanese junk was 
wrecked near this island, and the crew was forced to dwell 
upon it for weeks. It is greenly and gracefully draped 
with cedar and spruce trees, and is an object of much 
interest to tourists. 

Around Japonski cluster more than a hundred small 
islands of the Harbor group; in the whole sound there 
are probably a thousand, but some are mere green or 
rocky dots floating upon the pale blue water. 

A magnetic and meteorological observatory was estab¬ 
lished on Japonski by the Russians and was maintained 
until 1867. 




Copyright by E. A. Hegg, J uueuu . Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

An Alaskan Road House • 











CHAPTER XV 


The Northwest Coast of America extended from Juan 
de Fuca’s Strait to the sixtieth parallel of north latitude. 
Under the direction of the powerful mind of Peter the 
Great explorations in the North Pacific were planned. 
He wrote the following instructions with his own hand, 
and ordered the Chief Admiral, Count Fedor Apraxin, to 
see that they were carried into execution : — 

First. — One or two boats, with decks, to be built at 
Kamchatka, or at any other convenient place, with which 

Second. — Inquiry should be made in relation to the 
northerly coasts, to see whether they were not contiguous 
with America, since their end was not known. And this 
done, they should 

Third. — See whether they could not somewhere find 
an harbor belonging to Europeans, or an European ship. 
They should likewise set apart some men who were to 
inquire after the name and situation of the coasts dis¬ 
covered. Of all this an exact journal should be kept, 
with which they should return to St. Petersburg. 

Before these instructions could be carried out, Peter 
the Great died. 

His Empress, Catherine, however, faithfully carried out 
his plans. 

The first expedition set out in 1725, under the com¬ 
mand of Vitus Behring, a Danish captain in the Russian 
service, with Lieutenants Spanberg and Chirikoff as 
assistants. They carried several officers of inferior rank; 

153 


154 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


also seamen and ship-builders. Boats were to be built at 
Kamchatka, and they started overland through Siberia on 
February the fifth of that year. Owing to many trials 
and hardships, it was not until 1728 that Behring sailed 
along the eastern shore of the peninsula, passing and 
naming St. Lawrence Island, and on through Behring 
Strait. There, finding that the coast turned westward, 
his natural conclusion was that Asia and America were 
not united, and he returned to Kamchatka. In 1734, 
under the patronage of the Empress Elizabeth, Peter the 
Great’s daughter, a second expedition made ready; but 
owing to insurmountable difficulties, it was not until Sep¬ 
tember, 1740, that Behring and Chirikoff set sail in the 
packet-boats St. Peter and St. Paul — Behring command¬ 
ing the former — from Kamchatka. They wintered at 
Avatcha on the Kamchatkan Peninsula, where a few 
buildings, including a church, were hastily erected, and 
to which the name of Petropavlovsk was given. 

On June 4, 1741, the two ships finally set sail on their 
eventful voyage — how eventful to us of the United 
States we are only, even now, beginning to realize. 
They were accompanied by Lewis de Lisle de Croyere, 
professor of astronomy, and Georg Wilhelm Steller, natu¬ 
ralist. 

Muller, the historian, and Gmelin, professor of chem¬ 
istry and natural history, also volunteered in 1733 to 
accompany the expedition; but owing to the long delay, 
and ill-health arising from arduous labors in Kamchatka, 
they were compelled to permit the final expedition to de¬ 
part without them. 

On the morning of June 20, the two ships became 
separated in a gale and never again sighted one an¬ 
other. Chirikoff took an easterly course, and to him, 
on the fifteenth of July, fell, by chance, the honor of the 
first discovery of land on the American continent, oppo- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


155 


site Kamchatka, in 55° 21'. Here he lost two boatloads of 
seamen whom he sent ashore for investigation, and whose 
tragic fate may only be guessed from the appearance of 
savages later, upon the shore. 

That the first Russians landing upon the American 
continent should have met with so horrible a fate as theirs 
is supposed to have been, has been considered by the 
superstitious as an evil omen. The first boat sent ashore 
contained ten armed sailors and was commanded by the 
mate, Abraham Mikhailovich Dementief. The latter is 
described as a capable young man, of distinguished family, 
of fine personal appearance, and of kind heart, who, having 
suffered from an unfortunate love affair, had offered him¬ 
self to serve his country in this most hazardous expedi¬ 
tion. They were furnished with provisions and arms, 
including a small brass cannon, and given a code of sig¬ 
nals by Chirikoff, by which they might communicate with 
the ship. The boat reached the shore and passed behind 
a point of land. For several days signals which were 
supposed to indicate that the party was alive and well, 
were observed rising at intervals. At last, however, 
great anxiety was experienced by those on board lest the 
boat should have sustained damage in some way, making 
it impossible for the party to return. On the fifth day 
another boat was sent ashore with six men,N including a 
carpenter and a calker. They effected a landing at the 
same place, and shortly afterward a great smoke was ob¬ 
served, pushing its dark curls upward above the point of 
land behind which the boats had disappeared. 

The following morning two boats were discovered put¬ 
ting off from the shore. There was great rejoicing on 
the ship, for the night had been passed in deepest anxiety, 
and without further attention to the boats, preparations 
were hastily made for immediate sailing. Soon, however, 
to the dread and horror of all, it was discovered that the 


156 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


boats were canoes filled with savages, who, at sight of the 
ship, gave unmistakable signs of astonishment, and shout¬ 
ing “ Agai! Agai! ” turned hastily back to the shore. 

Silence and consternation fell upon all. Chirikoff, hu¬ 
mane and kind-hearted, bitterly bewailed the fate of his 
men. A wind soon arising, he was forced to make for 
the open sea. He remained in the vicinity, and as soon 
as it was possible, returned to his anchorage; but no 
signs of the unfortunate sailors were ever discovered. 

Without boats, and without sufficient men, no attempt 
at a rescue could be made; nor was further exploration 
possible; and heavy-hearted and discouraged, notwith¬ 
standing his brilliant success, Chirikoff again weighed 
anchor and turned his ship homeward. 

He and his crew were attacked by scurvy; provisions 
and water became almost exhausted; Chirikoff was con¬ 
fined to his berth, and many died; some islands of the 
chain now known as the Aleutians were discovered; and 
finally, on the 8th of October, 1741, after enduring in¬ 
expressible hardships, great physical and mental suffering, 
and the loss of twenty-one men, they arrived on the coast 
of Kamchatka near the point of their departure. 

In the meantime, on the day following Chirikoff’s dis¬ 
covery of land, Commander Behring, far to the north¬ 
westward, saw, rising before his enraptured eyes, the 
splendid presence of Mount St. Elias, and the countless, 
and scarcely less splendid, peaks which surround it, and 
which, stretching along the coast for hundreds of miles, 
whitely and silently people this region with majestic beauty. 
Steller, in his diary, claims to have discovered land on the 
fifteenth, but was ridiculed by his associates, although it 
was clearly visible to all in the same place on the follow¬ 
ing day. 

They effected a landing on an island, which they named 
St. Elias, in honor of the day upon which it was dis- 


ALASKA2 THE GREAT COUNTRY 


157 


covered. It is now known as Kayak Island, but the 
mountain retains the original name. Having accom¬ 
plished the purpose of his expedition, Behring hastily 
turned the St. Peter homeward. 

For this haste Behring has been most severely criticised. 
But when we take into consideration the fact that prep¬ 
arations for this second expedition had begun in 1733 ; 
that during all those years of difficult travelling through 
Siberia, of boat building and the establishment of posts 
and magazines for the storing of provisions, he had been 
hampered and harassed almost beyond endurance by the 
quarrelling, immorality, and dishonesty of his subordi¬ 
nates ; that for all dishonesty and blunders he was made 
responsible to the government; and that so many com¬ 
plaints of him had been forwarded to St. Petersburg by 
officers whom he had reprimanded or otherwise punished 
that at last, in 1739, officers had been sent to Ohkotsk to 
investigate his management of the preparations; that he 
had now discovered that portion of the American conti¬ 
nent which he had set out to discover, had lost Chirikoff, 
upon whose youth and hopefulness he had been, perhaps 
unconsciously, relying; and — most human of all — that 
he had a young and lovely wife and two sons in Russia 
whom he had not seen for years (and whom he was des¬ 
tined never to see again) ; when we take all these things 
into consideration, there seems to be but little justice in 
these harsh criticisms. 

To-day, there is no portion of the Alaskan coast more 
unreliable, nor more to be dreaded by mariners, than that 
in the vicinity of Behring’s discovery. Even in summer 
violent winds and heavy seas are usually encountered. 
Steamers cannot land at Kayak, and passengers and 
freight are lightered ashore; and when this is accom¬ 
plished without disaster or great difficulty, the trip is 
spoken of as an exceptional one. Yet Behring remained 


158 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


in this dangerous anchorage five days. Several landings 
were made on the two Kayak Islands, and on various smaller 
ones. Some Indian huts, without occupants, were found 
and entered. They were built of logs and rough bark 
and roofed with tough dried grasses. There were, also, 
some sod cellars, in which dried salmon was found. In 
one of the cabins were copper implements, a whetstone, 
some arrows, ropes, and cords made of sea-weed, and rude 
household utensils; also herbs which had been prepared 
according to Kamchatkan methods. 

Returning, Behring discovered and named many of the 
Aleutian Islands and exchanged presents with the friendly 
natives. They were, however, overtaken by storms and 
violent illness; they suffered of hunger and thirst; so 
many died that barely enough remained to manage the 
ship. Finally on November 5, in attempting to land, 
the St. Peter was wrecked on a small island, where, on 
the 8th of December, in a wretched hut, half covered 
with sand whicji sifted incessantly through the rude 
boards that were his only roof, and after suffering unim¬ 
aginable agonies, the illustrious Dane, Vitus Behring, 
died the most miserable of deaths. The island was 
named for him, and still retains the name, being the 
larger of the Commander Islands. 

The survivors of the wreck remaining on Behring 
Island dragged out a wretched existence until spring, in 
holes dug in the sand and roofed with sails. Water they 
had; but their food consisted chiefly of the flesh of sea- 
otters and seals. In May, weak, emaciated, and hopeless 
though they were, and with their brave leader gone, they 
began building a boat from the remnants of the St. Peter. 
It was not completed until August; when, with many 
fervent prayers, they embarked, and, after nine days of 
mingled dread and anxiety in a frail and leaking craft, 
they arrived safely on the Kamchatkan shore. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 159 

All hope of their safety had long been abandoned, and 
there was great rejoicing upon their return. Out of their 
own deep gratitude a memorial was placed in the church 
at Petropavlovsk, which is doubtless still in existence, 
as it was in a good state of preservation a few years ago. 

Russian historians at first seemed disposed to depre¬ 
ciate Behring’s achievement, and to over-exalt the Rus¬ 
sian, Chirikoff. They made the claim that the latter 
was a man of high intellectual attainments, courageous, 
hopeful, and straightforward; kind-hearted, and giving 
thought to and for others. He was instructor of the 
marines of the guard, but after having been recom¬ 
mended to Peter the Great as a young man highly quali¬ 
fied to accompany the expedition under Behring, he was 
promoted to a lieutenancy and accompanied the latter on 
his first expedition in 1725; and on the second, in 1741, 
he was made commander of the St. Pevril, or St. Paul, 
“ not by seniority but on account of superior knowledge 
and worth.” Despite the fact that Behring was placed 
by the emperor in supreme command of both expeditions, 
the Russians looked upon Chirikoff as the real hero. He 
was a favorite with all, and in the accounts of quarrels 
and dissensions among the heads of the various detach¬ 
ments of scientists and naval officers of the expedition, 
the name of Chirikoff does not appear. His wife and 
daughter accompanied him to Siberia. 

Captain Vitus Behring — or Ivan Ivanovich, as the 
Russians called him—is described as a man of intelli¬ 
gence, honesty, and irreproachable conduct, but rather 
inclined in his later years to vacillation of purpose and 
indecision of character, yielding easily to an irritable and 
capricious temper. Whether these facts were due to age 
or disease is not known; but that they seriously affected 
his fitness for the command of an exploration is not 
denied, even by his admirers. Even so sane and consci- 


160 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


entious an historian as Dali calls him timid, hesitating, 
and indolent, and refers to his “ characteristic imbecility,” 
“utter incapacity,” and “total incompetency.” It is in¬ 
credible, however, that a man of such gross faults should 
have been given the command of this brilliant expedition 
by so wise and great a monarch as Peter. Behring died, 
— old, discouraged, in indescribable anguish; suspicious 
of every one, doubting even Steller, the naturalist who 
accompanied the expedition and who was his faithful 
friend. Chirikoff returned, young, flushed with success, 
popular and in favor with all, from the Empress down to 
his subordinates. Favored at the outset by youth and 
a cheerful spirit, his bright particular star guided him to 
the discovery of land a few hours in advance of Behring. 
This was his good luck and his good luck only. Vitus 
Behring, the Dane in the Russian service, was in supreme 
command of the expedition ; and to him belongs the glory. 
One cannot to-day sail that magnificent sweep of purple 
water between Alaska and Eastern Siberia without a 
thrill of thankfulness that the fame and the name of the 
illustrious Dane are thus splendidly perpetuated. 

To-day, his name is heard in Alaska a thousand times 
where Chirikoff s is heard once. The glory of the latter 
is fading, and Behring is coming to his own—Russians 
speaking of him with a pride that approaches veneration. 

Captain Martin Petrovich Spanberg, the third in com¬ 
mand of the expedition, was also a Dane. He is every¬ 
where described as an illiterate, coarse, cruel man; 
grasping, selfish, and unscrupulous in attaining ends 
that made for his own advancement. In his study of 
the character of Spanberg, Bancroft — who has furnished 
the most complete and painstaking description of these 
expeditions — makes comment which is, perhaps uninten¬ 
tionally, humorous. After describing Spanberg as exceed¬ 
ingly avaricious and cruel, and stating that his bad 



Copyright by F. H. Nowell, Seattle 

Kow-Ear-Nuk and his Drying Salmon 







ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


161 


reputation extended over all Siberia, and that his name 
appears in hundreds of complaints and petitions from 
victims of his licentiousness, cruelty, and avarice, Bancroft 
naively adds, “He was just the man to become rich.” . 
Wealthy people may take such comfort as they can out 
of the comment. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Inspired by the important discoveries of this expedition 
and by the hope of a profitable far trade with China, 
various Russian traders and adventurers, known as 
“ promyshleniki,” made voyages into the newly discovered 
regions, pressing eastward island by island, and year by 
year; beginning that long tale of cruelty and bloodshed 
in the Aleutian Islands which has not yet reached an end. 
Men as harmless as the pleading, soft-eyed seals were 
butchered as heartlessly and as shamelessly, that their 
stocks of furs might be appropriated and their women 
ravished. In 1745 Alexei Beliaief and ten men inveigled 
fifteen Aleutians into a quarrel with the sole object of 
killing them and carrying off their women. In 1762, the 
crew of the G-avril persuaded twenty-five young Aleutian 
girls to accompany them “ to pick berries and gather roots 
for the ship’s company.” On the Kamchatkan coast 
several of the crew and sixteen of these girls were landed 
to pick berries. Two of the girls made their escape into 
the hills; one was killed by a sailor; and the others cast 
themselves into the sea and were drowned. Gavril 
Pushkaref, who was in command of the vessel, ordered 
that all the remaining natives, with the exception of one 
boy and an interpreter, should be thrown overboard and 
drowned. 

These are only two instances of the atrocious outrages 
perpetrated upon these innocent and childlike people by 
the brutal and licentious traders who have frequented 

162 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 163 

these far beautiful islands from 1745 to the present time. 
From year to year now dark and horrible stories float down 
to us from the far northwestward, or vex our ears when we 
sail into those pale blue water-ways. Nor do they con¬ 
cern “ promyshleniki ” alone. Charges of the gravest 
nature have been made against men of high position who 
spend much time in the Aleutian Islands. That these 
gentle people have suffered deeply, silently, and shamefully, 
at the hands of white men of various nationalities, has 
never been denied, nor questioned. It is well known to 
be the simple truth. From 1760 to about 1766 the natives 
rebelled at their treatment and active hostilities were 
carried on. Many Russians were killed, some were 
tortured. Solovief, upon arriving at Unalaska and learn¬ 
ing the fate of some of his countrymen, resolved to avenge 
them. His designs were carried out with unrelenting 
cruelty. By some writers, notably Berg, his crimes have 
been palliated, under the plea that nothing less than ex¬ 
treme brutality could have so soon reduced the natives to 
the state of fear and humility in which they have ever 
since remained—failing to take into consideration the 
atrocities perpetrated upon the natives for years before 
their open revolt. 

In 1776 we find the first mention of Grigor Ivanovich 
Shelikoff; but it was not until 1784 that he succeeded in 
making the first permanent Russian settlement in America, 
on Kodiak Island, — forty-three dark and strenuous years 
after Vitus Behring saw Mount St. Elias rising out of the 
sea. Shelikoff was second only to Baranoff in the early 
history of Russian America, and is known as “the founder 
and father of Russian colonies in America.” His wife, 
Natalie, accompanied him upon all his voyages. She was 
a woman of very unusual character, energetic and am¬ 
bitious, and possessed of great business and executive 
ability. After her husband’s death, her management for 


164 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


many years of not only her own affairs, but those of the 
Shelikoff Company as well, reflected great credit upon 
herself. 

It was the far-sighted Shelikoff who suggested and carried 
out the idea of a monopoly of the fur trade in Russian 
America under imperial charter. As a result of his 
forceful presentation of this scheme and the able — and 
doubtless selfish — assistance of General Jacobi, the gov¬ 
ernor-general of Eastern Siberia, the Empress became 
interested. In 1T88 an imperial ukase was issued, grant¬ 
ing to the Shelikoff Company exclusive control of the 
territory already occupied by them. Assistance from the 
public coffers was at that time withheld; but the Empress 
graciously granted to Shelikoff and his partner, Golikof, 
swords and medals containing her portrait. The medals 
were to be worn around their necks, and bore inscriptions 
explaining that they “ had been conferred for services 
rendered to humanity by noble and bold deeds.” 

Although Shelikoff greatly preferred the pecuniary 
assistance from the government, he nevertheless accepted 
with a good grace the honor bestowed, and bided his time 
patiently. 

In accordance with commands issued by the commander 
at Ohkotsk and by the Empress herself, Shelikoff adopted 
a policy of humanity in his relations with the natives, 
although it is suspected that this was on account of his 
desire to please the Empress and work out his own designs, 
rather than the result of his own kindness of heart. 

With the clearness of vision which distinguished his 
whole career,^ Shelikoff selected Alexander Baranoff as his 
agent in the territory lying to the eastward of Kodiak. 
In Voskressenski, or Sunday, Harbor — now Resurrection 
Bay, on which the town of Seward is situated — Baranoff 
built in 1794 the first vessel to glide into the waters of 
Northwestern America — the Phoenix. At the request of 












































































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Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

Steamer “Resolute” 




ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


165 


Shelikoff a colony of two hundred convicts, accompanied 
by twenty priests, were sent out by imperial ukase, and 
established at Yakutat Bay, under Baranoff. During the 
years that followed many complaints were entered by the 
clergy against Baranoff for cruelty, licentiousness, and 
mismanagement of the company’s affairs. But, whatever 
his faults may have been, it is certain that no man could 
have done so much for the promotion of the company’s 
interests at that time as Baranoff; nor could any other so 
efficiently have conducted its affairs. 

It was during his governorship that the rose of success 
bloomed brilliant^ for the Russian-American Company 
in the colonies. He was a shrewd, tireless, practical 
business man. His successors were men distinguished in 
army and navy circles, haughty and patrician, but abso¬ 
lutely lacking in business ability, and ignorant of the 
unique conditions and needs of the country. 

After Baranoff’s resignation and death, the revenues of 
the company rapidly declined, and its vast operations were 
conducted at a loss. 

It was in 1791 that Baranoff assumed command of all the 
establishments on the island of the Shelikoff Company which, 
under imperial patronage, had already secured a partial mo¬ 
nopoly of the American fur trade. Owing to competition by 
independent traders, the large company, after the death of 
Shelikoff, united with its most influential rival, under the 
name of the Shelikoff United Company. The following 
year this company secured an imperial ukase which granted 
to it, under the name of the Russian-American Company, 
“ full privileges, for a period of twenty years, on the coast 
of North-western America, beginning from latitude fifty- 
five degrees North, and including the chain of islands ex¬ 
tending from Kamchatka northward to America and 
southward to Japan ; the exclusive right to all enterprises, 
whether hunting, trading, or building, and to new discov- 


166 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


eries, with strict prohibition from profiting by any of these 
pursuits, not only to all parties who might engage in them 
on their own responsibility, but also to those who formerly 
had ships and establishments there, except those who have 
united with the new company.” 

In the same year a fort was established by Baranoff, on 
what is now Sitka Sound. This was destroyed by natives ; 
and in 1804 another fort was erected by Baranoff, near the 
site of the former one, which he named Fort Archangel 
Michael. This fort is the present Sitka. Its establish¬ 
ment enabled the Russian-American Company to extend 
its operations to the islands lying southward and along the 
continental shore. 

We now come to the most fascinating portion of the his¬ 
tory of Alaska. Not even the wild and romantic days of 
gold excitement in the Klondike can equal Baranoff’s reign 
at Sitka for picturesqueness and mysterious charm. The 
strength and personality of the man were such that to-day 
one who is familiar with his life and story, entering Sitka, 
will unconsciously feel his presence ; and will turn, with 
a sigh, to gaze upon the commanding height where once 
his castle stood. 

There were many dark and hopeless days for Baranoff 
during his first years with the company, and it was while 
in a state of deep discouragement and hopelessness that he 
received the news of his appointment as chief manager of 
the newly organized Russian-American Company. Most 
of his plans and undertakings had failed ; many Russians 
and natives had been lost on hunting voyages ; English 
and American traders had superseded him at every point 
to the eastward of Kodiak ; many of his Aleutian hunters 
had been killed, in conflict with the savage Thlinkits ; he 
had lost a sloop which had been constructed at Voskressen- 
ski Bay ; and finally, he had returned to Kodiak enduring 
the agonies of inflammatory rheumatism, only to be re- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


167 


proached by the subordinates, who were suffering of actual 
hunger — so long had they been without relief from supply 
ships. 

In this dark hour the ship arrived which carried not only 
good tidings, but plentiful supplies as well. Baranoff’s star 
now shone brightly, leading him on to hope and renewed 
effort. 

In the spring of the following year, 1799, Baranoff, with 
two vessels manned by twenty-two Russians, and three hun¬ 
dred and fifty canoes, set sail for the eastward. Many of 
the natives were lost by foundering of the canoes, and 
many more by slaughter at the hands of the Kolosh, but 
finally they .arrived at a point now known as Old Sitka, 
six miles north of the present Sitka, and bartered with the 
chief of the natives for a site for a settlement. Captain 
Cleveland, whose ship Caroline , of Boston, was then lying 
in the harbor, describes the Indians of the vicinity as fol¬ 
lows : “ A more hideous set of beings in the form of men 
and women, I had never before seen. The fantastic man¬ 
ner in which many of the faces were painted was probably 
intended to give them a more ferocious appearance ; and 
some groups looked really as if they had escaped from the 
dominions of Satan himself. One had a perpendicular line 
dividing the two sides of the face, one side of which 
was painted red, the other black, with the hair daubed 
with grease and red ochre, and filled with the down of 
birds. Another had the face divided with a horizontal 
line in the middle, and painted black and white. The 
visage of a third was painted in checkers, etc. Most of 
them had little mirrors, before the acquisition of which 
they must have been dependent on each other for those 
correct touches of the pencil which are so much in vogue, 
and which daily require more time than the toilet of a 
Parisian belle.” 

These savages were known to be treacherous and dan- 


168 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


gerous, but they pretended to be friendly, and fears were 
gradually allayed by continued peace. The story of the 
great massacre and destruction of the fort is of poignant 
interest, as simply and pathetically told by one of the 
survivors, a hunter : “ In this present year 1802, about 
the twenty-fourth of June— I do not remember the exact 
date, but it was a holiday — about two o’clock in the after¬ 
noon, I went to the river to look for our calves, as I had 
been detailed by the commander of the fort, Yassili Med- 
vednikof, to take care of the cattle. On returning soon 
after, I noticed at the fort a great multitude of Kolosh 
people, who had not only surrounded the barracks below, 
but were already climbing over the balcony and to the 
roof with guns and cannon ; and standing upon a little 
knoll in front of the out-houses, was the Sitka toyon , or 
chief, Mikhail, giving orders to those who were around the 
barracks, and shouting to some people in canoes not far 
away, to make haste aud assist in the fight. In answer 
to his shouts sixty-two canoes emerged from behind the 
points of rocks.” (One is inclined to be sceptical con¬ 
cerning the exact number of canoes ; the frightened hunter 
would scarcely pause to count the war canoes as they 
rounded the point.) “ Even if I had reached the barracks, 
they were already closed and barricaded, and there was no 
safety outside ; therefore, I rushed away to the cattle yard, 
where I had a gun. I only waited to tell a girl who was 
employed in the yard to take her little child and fly to the 
woods, when, seizing my gun, I closed up the shed. Very 
soon after this four Kolosh came to the door and knocked 
three times. As soon as I ran out of the shed, they seized 
me by the coat and took my gun from me. I was com¬ 
pelled to leave both in their hands, and jumping through 
a window, ran past the fort and hid in the thick underbrush 
of the forest, though two Kolosh ran after me, but could 
not find me in the woods. Soon after, I emerged from 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


169 


the underbrush, and approached the barracks to see if the 
attack had been repulsed, but I saw that not only the 
barracks, but the ship recently built, the warehouse and 
the sheds, the cattle sheds, bath house and other small 
buildings, had been set on fire and were already in full 
blaze. The sea-otter skins and other property of the 
company, as well as the private property of Medvednikof 
and the hunters, the savages were throwing from the bal¬ 
cony to the ground on the water side, while others seized 
them and carried them to the canoes, which were close to 
the fort. . . . All at once I saw two Kolosh running toward 
me armed with guns and lances, and I was compelled to 
hide again in the woods. I threw myself down among 
the underbrush on the edge of the forest, covering myself 
with pieces of bark. From there I saw Nakvassin drop 
from the upper balcony and run toward the woods ; but 
when nearly across the open space he fell to the ground, 
and four warriors rushed up and carried him back to the 
barracks on the points of their lances and cut off his head. 
Kabanof was dragged from the barracks into the street, 
where the Kolosh pierced him with their lances ; but how 
the other Russians who were there came to their end, I do 
not know. The slaughter and incendiarism were continued 
by the savages until the evening, but finally I stole out 
among the ruins and ashes, and in my wanderings came 
across some of our cows, and saw that even the poor dumb 
animals had not escaped the bloodthirsty fiends, having 
spears stuck in their sides. Exercising all my strength, 
I was barely able to pull out some of the spears, when I 
was observed by two Kolosh, and compelled to leave the 
cows to their fate and hide again in the woods. 

“ I passed the night not far from the ruins of the fort. 
In the morning I heard the report of a cannon and 
looked out of the brush, but could see nobody, and not 
wishing to expose myself again to further danger, went 


170 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


higher up in the mountain through the forest. While 
advancing cautiously through the woods, I met two other 
persons who were in the same condition as myself, — a 
girl from the Chiniatz village, Kodiak, with an infant on 
her breast, and a man from the Kiliuda village, who had 
been left behind by the hunting party on account of 
sickness. I took them both with me to the mountain, 
but each night I went with my companions to the ruins 
of the fort and bewailed the fate of the slain. In this 
miserable condition we remained for eight days, with 
nothing to eat and nothing but water to drink. About 
noon of the last day we heard from the mountain two 
cannon-shots, which raised some hopes in me, and I told 
my companions to follow me at a little distance, and then 
went down toward the river through the woods to hide 
myself near the shore and see whether there was a ship 
in the bay.” 

He discovered, to his unspeakable joy, an English ship 
in the bay. Shouting to attract the attention of those 
on board, he was heard by six Kolosh, who made their 
way toward him and had almost captured him ere he 
saw them and made his escape in the woods. They 
forced him to the shore at a point near the cape, where 
he was able to make himself heard by those on the vessel. 
A boat put off at once, and he was barely able to leap 
into it when the Kolosh, in hot pursuit, came in sight 
again. When they saw the boat, they turned and fled. 

When the hunter had given an account of the massacre 
to the commander of the vessel, an armed boat was sent 
ashore to rescue the man and girl who were in hiding. 
They were easily located and, with another Russian who 
was found in the vicinity, were taken aboard and sup¬ 
plied with food and clothing. 

The commander himself then accompanied them, with 
armed men, to the site of the destroyed fort, where they 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


171 


examined and buried the dead. They found that all 
but Kabanof had been beheaded. 

Three days later the chief, Mikhail, went out to the 
ship, was persuaded to go aboard, and with his nephew 
was held until all persons captured during the massacre 
and still living had been surrendered. The prisoners 
were given up reluctantly, one by one; and when it was 
believed that all had been recovered, the chief and his 
nephew were permitted to leave the ship. 

The survivors were taken to Kodiak, where the humane 
captain of the ship demanded of Baranolf a compensation 
of fifty thousand roubles in cash. Baranolf, learning that 
the captain’s sole expense had been in feeding and clothing 
the prisoners, refused to pay this exorbitant sum; and after 
long wrangling it was settled for furs worth ten thousand 
roubles. 

Accounts of the massacre by survivors and writers of 
that time vary somewhat, some claiming that the massacre 
was occasioned by the broken faith and extreme cruelty 
of the Russians in their treatment of the savages; others, 
that the Sitkans had been well treated and that Chief 
Mikhail had falsely pretended to be the warm and faith¬ 
ful friend of Baranoff, who had placed the fullest con¬ 
fidence in him. 

Baranoff was well-nigh broken-hearted by his new and 
terrible misfortune. The massacre had been so timed 
that the most of the men of the fort were- away on 
a hunting expedition; and Baranoff himself was on 
Afognak Island, which is only a few hours’ sail from 
Kodiak. Several Kolosh women lived at the fort with 
Russian men; and these women kept their tribesmen 
outside informed as to the daily conditions within the 
garrison. On the weakest day of the fort, a holiday, the 
Kolosh had, therefore, suddenly surrounded it, armed 
with guns, spears, and daggers, their faces covered with 
masks representing animals, 


172 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


About this time Krusenstern and Lisiansky sailed 
from Kronstadt, in the hope — which was fulfilled — of 
being the first to carry the Russian flag around the 
world. Lisiansky arrived at Kodiak, after many hard¬ 
ships, only to receive a written request from Baranoff to 
proceed at once to Sitka and assist him in subduing the 
savages and avenging the officers and men lost in the fear¬ 
ful massacre. On the '15th of August, 1804, he there¬ 
fore sailed to eastward, and on the twentieth of the 
same month entered Sitka Sound. The day must have 
been gloomy and Lisiansky’s mood in keeping with the 
day, for he thus describes a bay which is, under favorable 
conditions, one of the most idyllically beautiful imagin¬ 
able: “ On our entrance into Sitka Sound to the place 
where we now were, there was not to be seen on the shore 
the least vestige of habitation. Nothing presented itself 
to our view but impenetrable woods reaching from the 
water-side to the very tops of the mountains. I never 
saw a country so wild and gloomy; it appeared more 
adapted for the residence of wild beasts than of men.” 

Shortly afterward Baranoff arrived in the harbor with 
several hundred Aleutians and many Russians, after a 
tempestuous and dangerous voyage from Yakutat, the 
site of the convict settlement. He learned that the 
savages had taken up their position on a bluff a few 
miles distant, where they had fortified themselves. This 
bluff was the noble height upon which Baranoff’s castle 
was afterward erected, and which commands the entire 
bay upon which the Sitka of to-day is located. Lisiansky, 
in his “Voyage around the World,” describes the Indians’ 
fort as “ an irregular polygon, its longest side facing the 
sea. It was protected by a breastwork two logs in thick¬ 
ness, and about six feet high. Around and above it 
tangled brushwood was piled. Grape-shot did little 
damage, even at the distance of a cable’s length. There 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


173 


were two embrasures for cannon in the side facing the 
sea, and two gates facing the forest. Within were four¬ 
teen large huts, or, as they were called then, and are 
called at the present time by the natives, barabaras. 
Judging from the quantity of provisions and domestic 
implements found there, it must have contained at least 
eight hundred warriors.” 

An envoy from the Kolosh fort came out with friendly 
overtures, but was informed that peace conditions could 
only be established through the chiefs. He departed, 
but soon returned and delivered a hostage. 

Baranoff made plain his conditions ; agreement with the 
chiefs in person, the delivery of two more hostages, and 
permanent possession of the fortified bluff. 

The chiefs did not appear, and the conditions were not 
accepted. Then, on October 1, after repeated warnings, 
Baranoff gave the order to fire upon the fort. Im¬ 
mediately afterward, Baranoff, Lieutenant Arlusof, and a 
party of Russians and Aleutians landed with the intention 
of storming the fort. They were repulsed, the panic- 
stricken Aleutians stampeded, and Baranoff was left al¬ 
most without support. In this condition, he could do 
nothing but retreat to the boats, — which they were barely 
able to reach before the Kolosh were upon them. They 
saved their field-pieces, but lost ten men. Twenty-six 
were wounded, including Baranoff himself. Had not their 
retreat at this point been covered by the guns of the ship, 
the loss of life would have been fearful. 

The following day Lisiansky was placed in command. 
He opened a rapid fire upon the fort, with such effect 
that soon after noon a peace envoy arrived, with promise 
of hostages. His overtures were favorably received, and 
during the following three days several hostages were re¬ 
turned to the Russians. The evacuation of the fort was 
demanded; but, although the chief consented, no move- 


174 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


ments in that direction could be discovered from the ships. 
Lisiansky moved his vessel farther in toward the fort and 
sent an interpreter to ascertain how soon the occupants 
would be ready to abandon their fortified and command¬ 
ing position. The reply not being satisfactory, Lisiansky 
again fired repeatedly upon the stronghold of the Kolosh. 
On the 3d of October a white flag was hoisted, and the 
firing was discontinued. Then arose from the rocky height 
and drifted across the water until far into the night the 
sound of a mournful, wailing chant. 

When dawn came the sound had ceased. Absolute 
silence reigned; nor was there any living object to be 
seen on the shore, save clouds of carrion birds, whose dark 
wungs beat the still air above the fort. The Kolosh had 
fled; the fort was deserted by all save the dead. The 
bodies of thirty Kolosh warriors were found; also those 
of many children and dogs, which had been killed lest 
any cry from them should betray the direction of their 
flight. 

The fort was destroyed by fire, and the construction of 
magazines, barracks, and a residence for Baranoff was at 
once begun. A stockade surrounded these buildings, 
each corner fortified with a block-house. The garrison 
received the name of Novo Arkangelsk, or New Archangel. 
The tribal name of the Indians in that locality was Sitkah 
— pronounced Seetkah — and this short and striking name 
soon attached itself permanently to the place. 

Immense houses were built solidly and with every con¬ 
sideration for comfort and safety, and many families lived 
in each. They ranged in size from one hundred to one 
hundred and fifty feet in length, and about eighty in 
width, and were from one to three stories high with im¬ 
mense attics. They were well finished and richly pa¬ 
pered. The polished floors were covered with costly rugs 
and carpets, and the houses were furnished with heavy 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRT 


175 


and splendid furniture, which had been brought from St. 
Petersburg. The steaming brass samovar was everywhere 
a distinctive feature of the hospitality and good cheer which 
made Sitka famous. 

To the gay and luxurious life, the almost prodigal en¬ 
tertainment of guests by Sitkans from this time on to 1867, 
every traveller, from writers and naval' officers down to 
traders, has enthusiastically testified. At the first signal 
from a ship feeling its way into the dark harbor, a bright 
light flashed a welcome across the water from the high 
cupola on BaranofFs castle, and fires flamed up on Signal 
Island to beacon the way. 

The officers were received as friends, and entertained 
in a style of almost princely magnificence during their en¬ 
tire stay — the only thing asked in return being the capac¬ 
ity to eat like gluttons, revel like roisterers, and drink 
until they rolled helplessly under the table ; and, in Bara¬ 
nofFs estimation, these were small returns, indeed, to ask 
of a guest for his ungrudging and regal hospitality. 

Visions of those high revels and glittering banquets of 
a hundred years ago come glimmering down to us of to¬ 
day. Beautiful, gracious, and fascinating were the Rus¬ 
sian ladies who lived there, — if we are to believe the stories 
of voyagers to the Sitka of BaranofFs and Wrangell’s 
times. BaranofFs furniture was of specially fine work¬ 
manship and exceeding value ; his library was remarkable, 
containing works in nearly all European languages, and a 
collection of rare paintings — the latter having been pre¬ 
sented to the company at the time of its organiza¬ 
tion. 

Baranoff had left a wife and family in Russia. He 
never saw them again, although he sent allowances to 
them regularly. He was not bereft of woman’s com¬ 
panionship, however, and we have tales of revelry by 
night when Baranoff alternately sang and toasted every- 


176 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


body, from the Emperor down to the woman upon his 
knee with whom he shared every sparkling glass. He had 
a beautiful daughter by a native woman, and of her he 
was exceedingly careful. A governess whom he surprised 
in the act of drinking a glass of liquor was struck in sud¬ 
den blind passion and turned out of the house. The fol¬ 
lowing day he sent for her, apologized, and reinstalled 
her with an increased salary, warning her, however, that 
his daughter must never see her drink a drop of liquor. 
When in his most gloomy and hopeless moods, this daugh¬ 
ter could instantly soothe and cheer him by playing upon 
the piano and singing to him songs very different from 
those sung at his drunken all-night orgies. 

That there was a very human and tender side to Bara- 
noff’s nature cannot be doubted by those making a careful 
study of his tempestuous life. He was deeply hurt and 
humiliated by the insolent and supercilious treatment of 
naval officers who considered him of inferior position, not¬ 
withstanding the fact that he was in supreme command 
of all the Russian territory in America. From time to 
time the Emperor conferred honors upon him, and he was 
always deeply appreciative ; and it is chronicled that when 
a messenger arrived with the intelligence that he had been 
appointed by the Emperor to the rank of Collegiate Coun¬ 
cillor, Baranoff, broken by the troubles, hardships, and 
humiliations of his stormy life, was suddenly and com¬ 
pletely overcome by joy. He burst into tears and gave 
thanks to God. 

“ I am a nobleman ! ” he exclaimed. “ I am the equal in 
position and the superior in ability of these insolent naval 
officers.” 

In 1812 Mr. Wilson P. Hunt, of the Pacific Fur Com¬ 
pany, sailed from Astoria for Sitka on the Beaver with 
supplies for the Russians. By that time Baranoff had 
risen to the title and pomp of governor, and was living 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


177 


in splendid style befitting his position and his triumph 
over the petty officers, whose names are now insignifi¬ 
cant in Russian history. 

Mr. Hunt found this hyperborean veteran ensconced in 
a fort which crested the whole of a high, rocky promon¬ 
tory. It mounted one hundred guns, large and small, and 
was impregnable to Indian attack unaided by artillery. 
Here the old governor lorded it over sixty Russians, who 
formed the corps of the trading establishment, besides an 
indefinite number of Indian hunters of the Kodiak tribe, 
who were continually coming and going, or lounging and 
loitering about the fort like so many hounds round a sports¬ 
man’s hunting quarters. Though a loose liver among his 
guests, the governor was a strict disciplinarian among his 
men, keeping them in perfect subjection and having 
seven guards on duty night and day. 

Besides those immediate serfs and dependents just men¬ 
tioned, the old Russian potentate exerted a considerable 
sway over a numerous and irregular class of maritime 
traders, who looked to him for aid and munitions, and 
through whom he may be said to have, in some degree, 
extended his power along the whole Northwest Coast. 
These were American captains of vessels engaged in a 
particular department of trade. One of the captains 
would come, in a manner, empty-handed, to New Arch¬ 
angel. Here his ship would be furnished with about fifty 
canoes and a hundred Kodiak hunters, and fitted out with 
provisions and everything necessary for hunting the sea- 
otter on the coast of California, where the Russians had 
another establishment. The ship would ply along the 
California coast, from place to place, dropping parties 
of otter hunters in their canoes, furnishing them only 
with water, and leaving them to depend upon their own 
dexterity for a maintenance. When a sufficient cargo 
was collected, she would gather up her canoes and hunters 

N 


178 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


and return with them to Archangel, where the captain 
would render in the returns of his voyage and receive 
one-half of the skins as his share. 

Over these coasting captains the old governor exerted 
some sort of sway, but it was of a peculiar and character¬ 
istic kind ; it was the tyranny of the 'table. They were 
obliged to join in his “ prosnics ” or carousals and his 
heaviest drinking-bouts. His carousals were of the wild¬ 
est and coarsest, his tempers violent, his language strong. 
“ He is continually,” said Mr. Hunt, “ giving entertainment 
by way of parade ; and if you do not drink raw rum, 
and boiling punch as strong as sulphur, he will insult you 
as soon as he gets drunk, which is very shortly after sit¬ 
ting down at table.” 

A “temperance captain” who stood fast to his faith and 
kept his sobriety inviolate might go elsewhere for a market; 
he was not a man after the governor’s heart. Rarely, how¬ 
ever, did any captain made of such unusual stuff darken 
the doors of Baranoff’s high-set castle. The coasting 
captains knew too well his humor and their own interests. 
They joined with either real or well-affected pleasure in 
his roistering banquets; they ate much and drank more ; 
they sang themselves hoarse and drank themselves under 
the table; and it is chronicled that never was Baranoff 
satisfied until the last-named condition had come to pass. 
The more the guests that lay sprawling under the table, 
upon and over one another, the more easily were trading 
arrangements effected with Baranoff later on. 

Mr. Hunt relates the memorable warning to all “ flinch- 
ers ” which 'occurred shortly after his arrival. A young 
Russian naval officer had recently been sent out by the 
Emperor to take command of one of the company’s vessels. 
The governor invited him to one of his “ prosnics ” and 
plied him with fiery potations. The young officer stoutly 
maintained his right to resist — which called out all the 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


179 


fury of the old ruffian’s temper, and he proceeded to make 
the youth drink, whether he would or not. As the guest 
began to feel the effect of the burning liquors, his own 
temper rose to the occasion. He quarrelled violently with 
his almost royal host, and expressed his young opinion of 
him in the plainest language — if Russian language ever 
can be plain. For this abuse of what Baranoff considered 
his magnificent hospitality, he was given seventy-nine 
lashes when he was quite sober enough to appreciate 
them. 

With all his drinking and prodigal hospitality, Baranoff 
always managed to get his own head clear enough for busi¬ 
ness before sobriety returned to any of his guests, who were 
not so accustomed to these wild and constant revels of 
their host’s; so that he was never caught napping when 
it came to bargaining or trading. His own interests were 
ever uppermost in his mind, which at such times gave not 
the faintest indication of any befuddlement by drink or 
by licentiousness of other kinds. 

For more than twenty years Baranoff maintained a 
princely and despotic sway over the Russian colonies. 
His own commands were the only ones to receive con¬ 
sideration, and but scant attention was given by him to 
orders from the Directory itself. Complaints of his rul¬ 
ings and practices seldom reached Russia. Tyrannical, 
coarse, shrewd, powerful, domineering, and of absolutely 
iron will, all were forced to bow to his desires, even men 
who considered themselves his superiors in all save sheer 
brute force of will and character. Captain Krusenstern, 
a contemporary, in his account of Baranoff, says : “ None 
but vagabonds and adventurers ever entered the com¬ 
pany’s services as Promishleniks ; ” — uneducated Russian 
traders, whose inferior vessels were constructed usually of 
planks lashed to timbers and calked with moss; they sailed 
by dead reckoning, and were men controlled only by 


180 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


animal instincts and passions; — “it was their invariable 
destiny to pass a life of wretchedness in America.” 
“ Few,” adds Ivrusenstern, “ ever had the good fortune to 
touch Russian soil again.” 

In the light of present American opinion of the advan¬ 
tages and joys of life in Russia, this naive remark has an 
almost grotesque humor. Like many of the brilliantly 
successful, but unscrupulous, men of the world, Baranoff 
seemed to have been born under a lucky star which ever 
led him on. Through all his desperate battles with 
Indians, his perilous voyages by sea, and the plottings of 
subordinates who hated him with a helpless hate, he came 
unharmed. 

During his later years at Sitka, Baranoff, weighed 
down by age, disease, and the indescribable troubles of his 
long and faithful service, asked frequently to be relieved. 
These requests were ignored, greatly to his disappoint¬ 
ment. 

When, finally, in 1817, Hagemeister was sent out with 
instructions to assume command in Baranoff’s place, if he 
deemed it necessary, the orders were placed before the old 
governor so suddenly and so unexpectedly that he was com¬ 
pletely prostrated. He was now failing in mind, as well as 
body; and in this connection Bancroft adds another touch 
of ironical humor, whether intentional or accidental it is 
impossible to determine. “ One of his symptoms of ap¬ 
proaching imbecility,” writes Bancroft, “ being in his 
sudden attachment to the church. He kept constantly 
about him the priest who had established the first church 
at Sitka, and, urged by his spiritual adviser, made large 
donations for religious purposes.” 

The effect of the unexpected announcement is supposed 
to have shortened Baranoff’s days. Lieutenant Yanovsky, 
of the vessel which had brought Hagemeister, was placed 
in charge by the latter as his representative. Yanovsky 




































































































































































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


181 


fell in love with Baranoff’s daughter and married her. 
It was, therefore, to his own son-in-law that the old 
governor at last gave up the sceptre. 

By strength of his unbreakable will alone, he arose 
from a bed of illness and painfully and sorrowfully ar¬ 
ranged all the affairs of his office, to the smallest and 
most insignificant detail, preparatory to the transfer to his 
successor. 

It was in January, 1818, that Hagemeister had made 
known his appointment to the office of governor; it was 
not until September that Baranoff had accomplished his 
difficult task and turned over the office. 

There was then, and there is to-day, halfway between 
the site of the castle and Indian River, a gray stone about 
three feet high and having a flat, table-like surface. It 
stands on the shore beside the hard, white road. The 
lovely bay, set with a thousand isles, stretches sparkling 
before it; the blue waves break musically along the curv¬ 
ing shingle; the wooded hills rise behind it; the winds 
murmur among the tall trees. 

The name of this stone is the “ blarney ” stone. It was 
a favorite retreat of Baranoff’s and there, when he was 
sunken in one of his lonely or despondent moods, he would 
sit for hours, staring out over the water. What his 
thoughts were at such times, only God and he knew,— for 
not even his beloved daughter dared to approach him 
when one of his lone moods was upon him. 

In the first hour that he was no longer governor of the 
country he had ruled so long and so royally, he walked 
with bowed head along the beach until he reached his 
favorite retreat. There he sat himself down and for 
hours remained in silent communion with his own soul. 
He had longed for relief from his arduous duties, but it 
had come in a way that had broken his heart. His 
government had at last listened to complaints against him, 


182 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


and, ungrateful for his long and faithful service, had finally 
relieved him with but scant consideration; with an abrupt¬ 
ness and a lack of courtesy that had sorely wounded him. 

Nearly thirty of his best years he had devoted to the 
company. He had conquered the savages and placed the 
fur trade upon a highly profitable basis; he had built 
many vessels and had established trading relations with 
foreign countries; forts, settlements, and towns had risen 
at his indomitable will. Sitka, especially, was his own; 
her storied splendor, whose fame has endured through all 
the years, she owed entirely to him; she was the city of 
his heart. He was her creator; his life-blood, his very 
heart beats, were in her; and now that the time had really 
come to give her up forever, he found the hour of farewell 
the hardest of his hard life. No man, of whatsoever 
material he may be made, nor howsoever insensible to the 
influence of beauty he may deem himself to be, could 
dwell for twenty years in Sitka without finding, when it 
came to leaving her, that the tendrils of her loveliness had 
twined themselves so closely about his heart that their 
breaking could only be accomplished by the breaking of 
the heart itself. 

Of his kin, only a brother remained. The offspring of 
his connection with a Koloshian woman was now married 
and settled comfortably. A son by the same mistress had 
died. He had first thought of going to his brother, who 
lived in Kamchatka; but Golovnin was urging him to re¬ 
turn to Russia, which he had left forty years before. 
This he had finally decided to do, it having been made 
clear to him that he could still be of service to his country 
and his beloved colonies by his experience and advice. 
Remain in the town he had created and ruled so tyranni¬ 
cally, and which he still loved so devotedly, he could not. 
The mere thought of that was unendurable. 

All was now in readiness for his departure, but the old 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


183 


man—he was now seventy-two — had not anticipated 
that the going would be so hard. The blue waves came 
sparkling in from the outer sea and broke on the curving 
shingle at his feet; the white and lavender wings of sea¬ 
birds floated, widespread, upon the golden September air; 
vessels of the fleet he had built under the most distressing 
difficulties and disadvantages lay at anchor under the 
castle wherein he had banqueted every visitor of any 
distinction or position for so many years, and the light 
from whose proud tower had guided so many worn 
voyagers to safety at last ; the yellow, red-roofed build¬ 
ings, the great ones built of logs, the chapel, the sig¬ 
nificant block-houses — all arose out of the wilderness 
before his sorrowful eyes, taking on lines of beauty he 
had never discovered before. 

From this hour Baranoff failed rapidly from day to 
day. His time was spent in bidding farewell to the 
Russians and natives — to many of whom he was sin¬ 
cerely attached — and to places which had become en¬ 
deared to him by long association. He was frequently 
found in tears. Those who have seen fair Sitka rising 
out of the blue and islanded sea before their raptured 
eyes may be able to appreciate and sympathize with 
the old governor’s emotion as, on the 27th of No¬ 
vember, 1818, he stood in the stern of the Kutusof and 
watched the beloved city of his creation fade lingeringly 
from his view. He was weeping, silently and hopelessly, 
as the old weep, when, at last, he turned away. 

Baranoff never again saw Sitka. In March the Kutusof 
landed at Batavia, where it remained more than a month. 
There he was very ill; and soon after the vessel had 
again put to sea, he died, like Behring, a sad and lonely 
death, far from friends and home. On the 16th of 
April, 1819, the waters of the Indian Ocean received the 
body of Alexander Baranoff. 


184 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Notwithstanding his many and serious faults, or, pos¬ 
sibly because of their existence in so powerful a charac¬ 
ter — combined as they were with such brilliant talent 
and with so many admirable and conscientious qualities — 
Baranoff remains through all the years the most fasci¬ 
nating figure in the history of the Pacific Coast. None 
is so well worth study and close investigation ; none is so 
rich in surprises and delights; none has the charm of so 
lone and beautiful a setting. There was no littleness, no 
niggardliness, in his nature. “ He never knew what ava¬ 
rice was,” wrote Khlebnikof, “ and never hoarded riches. 
He did not wait until his death to make provision for the 
living, but gave freely to all who had any claim upon 
him.” 

He spent money like a prince. He received ten shares 
of stock in the company from Shelikoff and was later 
granted twenty more ; but he gave many of these to his 
associates who were not so well remunerated for their 
faithful services. Pie provided generously during his life 
for his family; and for the families in Russia of many 
who lost their lives in the colonies, or who were unable 
through other misfortunes to perform their duties in 
this respect. 

Born of humble parentage in Kargopal, Eastern Russia, 
in 1747, he had, at an early age, drifted to Moscow, where 
he was engaged as a clerk in retail stores until 1771, 
when he established himself in business. 

Not meeting with success, he four years later emigrated 
to Siberia and undertook the management of a glass fac¬ 
tory at Irkutsk. He also interested himself in other 
industries; and on account of several valuable communi¬ 
cations to the Civil Economical Society on the subject of 
manufacture he was in 1789 elected a member of the 
society. 

His life here was a humdrum existence, of which his 









































































































Copyright by Dobbs, Nome 


A Northern Madonna 







ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


185 


restless spirit soon wearied. Acquainting himself with 
the needs, resources, and possibilities of Kamchatka, he 
set out to the eastward with an assortment of goods 
and liquors, which he sold to the savages of that and 
adjoining countries. 

At first his operations were attended by success ; but 
when, in 1789, two of his caravans were captured by 
Chuckchi, he found himself bankrupt, and soon yielded 
to Shelikoff’s urgent entreaties to try his fortunes in 
America. 

Such is the simple early history of this remarkable man. 
Not one known descendant of his is living to-day. But 
men like Baranoff do not need descendants to perpetuate 
their names. 

Bancroft is the highest authority on the events of this 
period, his assistant being Ivan Petroff, a Russian, who 
was well-informed on the history of the colonies. 

Many secret reasons have been suspected for the sale 
of the magnificent country of Alaska to the United States 
for so paltry a sum. 

The only revenue, however, that Russia derived from 
the colonies was through the rich fur trade; and when, 
after Baranoff’s death, this trade declined and its future 
seemed hopeless, the country’s vast mineral wealth being 
unsuspected, Russia found herself in humor to consider 
any offer that might be of immediate profit to herself. 
For seven millions and two hundred thousands of dollars 
Russia cheerfully, because unsuspectingly, yielded one of 
the most marvellously rich and beautiful countries of the 
world — its valleys yellow with gold, its mountains green 
with copper and thickly veined with coal, its waters alive 
with fish and fur-bearing animals, its scenery sublime — 
to the scornful and unappreciative United States. 

As early as the fifties it became rumored that Russia, 


186 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


foreseeing the entire decline of the fur trade, considered 
Alaska a white elephant upon its hands, and that an offer 
for its purchase would not meet with disfavor. The 
matter was discussed in Washington at various times, 
but it was not until 1866 that it was seriously considered. 
The people of the present state of Washington were 
among those most desirous of its purchase; and there 
was rumor of the organization of a trading company of 
the Pacific Coast for the purpose of purchasing the rights 
of the Russian-American Company and acquiring the 
lease of the lisiere which was to expire in 1868. The 
Russian-American Company was then, however, awaiting 
the reply of the Hudson Bay Company concerning a 
renewal of the lease; and the matter drifted on until, in 
the spring of 1867, the Russian minister opened negotia¬ 
tions for the purchase of the country with Mr. Seward. 
There was some difficulty at first over the price, but the 
matter was one presenting so many mutual advantages 
that this was soon satisfactorily arranged. 

On Friday evening, March 25, 1867, Mr. Seward 
was playing whist with members of his family when 
the Russian minister was announced. Baron Stoeckl 
stated that he had received a despatch from his govern¬ 
ment by cable, conveying the consent of the Emperor to 
the cession. 

“ To-morrow,” he added, “ I will come to the depart¬ 
ment, and we can enter upon the treaty.” 

With a smile of satisfaction, Seward replied:— 

“Why wait till to-morrow? Let us make the treaty 
to-night.” 

“But your department is closed. You have no clerks, 
and my secretaries are scattered about the town.” 

“ Never mind that,” said Seward; “ if you can muster 
your legation together before midnight, you will find me 
awaiting you at the department.” 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


187 


By four o’clock on the following morning the treaty was 
engrossed, sealed, and ready for transmission by the Presi¬ 
dent to the Senate. The end of the session was approach¬ 
ing, and there was need of haste in order to secure action 
upon it. 

Leutze painted this historic scene. Mr. Seward is seen 
sitting at his table, pen in hand, listening to the Russian 
minister. The gaslight, streaming down on the table, 
illuminates the outline of “the great country.” 

When, immediately afterward, the treaty was presented 
for consideration in the Senate, Charles Sumner delivered 
his famous and splendid oration which stands as one of 
the masterpieces of history, and which revealed an en¬ 
lightened knowledge and understanding of Alaska that 
were remarkable at that time — and which probably sur¬ 
passed those of Seward. Among other clear and beauti¬ 
ful things he said : — 

“ The present treaty is a visible step in the occupation 
of the whole North American Continent. As such it will 
be recognized by the world and accepted by the American 
people. But the treaty involves something more. By it 
we dismiss one more monarch from this continent. One 
by one they have retired; first France, then Spain, then 
France again, and now Russia — all giving way to that 
absorbing unity which is declared in the national motto : 
Epluribus unum.” 

There is yet one more monarch to be retired, in 
all kindness and good-will, from our continent; and that 
event will take place when our brother-Canadians unite 
with us in deed as they already have in spirit. 

For years the purchase was unpopular, and was ridi¬ 
culed by the press and in conversation. Alaska was de> 
dared to be a “ barren, worthless, God-forsaken region,” 
whose only products were “ icebergs and polar bears ” ; 
vegetation was “ confined to mosses ” ; and “ Walrussia ” 


188 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


was wittily suggested as an appropriate name for our new 
possession — as well as “ Icebergia ” ; but in the face of 
all the opposition and ridicule, those two great Ameri¬ 
cans, Seward and Sumner, stood firmly for the acquisition 
of this splendid country. They looked through the mist 
of their own day and saw the day that is ours. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Since Sitka first dawned upon my sight on a June day, 
in her setting of vivid green and glistening white, she 
has been one of my dearest memories. Four times in all 
have the green islands drifted apart to let her rise from 
the blue sea before my enchanted eyes ; and with each 
visit she has grown more dear, and her memory more 
tormenting. 

Something gives Sitka a different look and atmosphere 
from any other town. It may be her whiteness, glisten¬ 
ing against the rich green background of forest and hill, 
with the whiteness of the mountains shining in the higher 
lights ; or it may be the severely white and plain Greek 
church, rising in the centre of the main street, not more 
than a block from the water, that gives Sitka her chaste 
and immaculate appearance. 

No buildings obstruct the view of the church from the 
water. There it is, in the form of a Greek cross, with its 
green roof, steeple, and bulbous dome. 

This church is generally supposed to be the one that 
Baranoff built at the beginning of the century ; but this 
is not true. Baranoff did build a small chapel, but it was 
in 1848 that the foundation of the present church was 
laid — almost thirty years after the death of Baranoff. 
It was under the special protection of the Czar, who, with 
other members of the imperial family, sent many costly 
furnishings and ornaments. 

Veniaminoff—who was later made Archpriest, and still 
189 


190 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


later the Archbishop of Kamchatka, and during the last 
years of his noble life, the Metropolitan of Moscow — 
sent many of the rich vestments, paintings, and furnish¬ 
ings. The chime of silvery bells was also sent from 
Moscow. 

Upon landing at Sitka, one is confronted by the old 
log storehouse of the Russians. This is an immense 
building, barricading the wharf from' the town. A nar¬ 
row, dark, gloomy passage-way, or alley, leads through 
the centre of this building. It seems as long as an ordi¬ 
nary city square to the bewildered stranger groping 
through its shadows. 

In front of this building, and inside both ends of the 
passage as far as the light reaches, squat squaws, young 
and old, pretty and hideous, starry-eyed and no-eyed, 
saucy and kind, arrogant and humble, taciturn and 
voluble, vivacious and weary-faced. Surely no known 
variety of squaw may be asked for and not found in this 
long line that reaches from the wharf to the green-roofed 
church. 

There is no night so wild and tempestuous, and no 
hour of any night so late, or of any morning so early, that 
the passenger hastening ashore is not greeted by this 
long line of dark-faced women. They sit like so many 
patient, noiseless statues, with their tempting wares clus¬ 
tered around the-flat, “toed-in” feet of each. 

Not only is this true of Sitka, but of every landing- 
place on the whole coast where dwells an Indian or an 
Aleut that has something to sell. Long before the boat 
lands, their gay shawls by day, or their dusky outlines by 
night, are discovered from the deck of the steamer. 

How they manage it, no ship’s officer can tell; for the 
whistle is frequently not blown until the boat is within a 
few yards of the shore. Yet there they are, waiting ! 

Sometimes, at night, they appear simultaneously, flut- 


ALASKA: TEE GREAT COUNTRY 


191 


tering down into their places, swiftly and noiselessly, like 
a flock of birds settling down to rest for a moment in 
their flight. 

Some of these women are dressed in skirts and waists, 
but the majority are wrapped in the everlasting gay 
blankets. No lip or nose ornaments are seen, even in 
the most aged. Two or three men are scattered down 
the line, to guard the women from being cheated. 

These tall and lordly creatures strut noiselessly and 
superciliously about, clucking out guttural advice to the 
squaws, as well as, to all appearances, the frankest criti¬ 
cism of the persons examining their wares with a view to 
purchasing. 

The women are very droll, and apparently have a keen 
sense of humor ; and one is sure to have considerable 
fun poked at one, going down the line. 

Mild-tempered people do not take umbrage at this ridi¬ 
cule ; in fact, they rather enjoy it. Being one of them, I 
lost my temper only once. A young squaw offered me a 
wooden dish, explaining in broken English that it was an 
old eating dish. 

It had a flat handle with a hole in it; and as cooking 
and eating utensils are never washed, it had the horrors 
of ages encrusted within it to the depth of an inch or 
more. 

This, of course, only added to its value. I paid her a 
dollar for it, and had just taken it up gingerly and shud- 
deringly with the tips of my fingers, when, to my amaze¬ 
ment and confusion, the girl who had sold it to me, two 
older women who were squatting near, and a tall man 
leaning against the wall, all burst simultaneously into 
jeering and uncontrollable laughter. 

As I gazed at them suspiciously and with reddening 
face, the young woman pointed a brown and unclean 
finger at me ; while, as for the chorus of chuckles and 


192 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


duckings that assailed my ears — I hope I may never 
hear their like again. 

To add to my embarrassment, some passengers at that 
moment approached. 

“ Hello, Sally,” said one; “ what’s the matter ? ” 

Laughing too heartily to reply, she pointed at the 
wooden dish, which I was vainly trying to hide. They 
all looked, saw, and laughed with the Indians. 

For a week afterward they smiled every time they 
looked at me; and I do believe that every man, woman, and 
child on the steamer came, smiling, to my cabin to see my 
“ buy.” But the ridicule of my kind was as nothing com¬ 
pared to that of the Indians themselves. To be “taken 
in ” by the descendant of a Koloshian, and then jeered at 
to one’s very face! 

The only possession of an Alaskan Indian that may not 
be purchased is a rosary. An attempt to buy one is met 
with glances of aversion. 

“It has been blessed /” one woman said, almost in a 
whisper. 

But they have most beautiful long strings of big, 
evenly cut, sapphire-blue beads. They call them Russian 
beads, and point out certain ones which were once used 
as money among the Indians. 

Their wares consist chiefly of baskets; but there are 
also immense spoons carved artistically out of the horns 
of mountain sheep; richly beaded moccasins of many 
different materials; carved and gayly painted canoes and 
paddles of the fragrant Alaska cedar or Sitka pine; 
totem-poles carved out of dark gray slate stone ; lamps, 
carved out of wood and inlaid with a fine pearl-like shell. 
These are formed like animals, with the backs hollowed to 
hold oil. There are silver spoons, rings, bracelets, and 
chains, all delicately traced with totemic designs; knives, 
virgin charms, Cliilkaht blankets, and now and then a 



Copyright by Dobbs, Nome 

'Eskimo Lad in Parka and Mukluks 
















































































. 

. 






















' • 









* 















ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


193 


genuine old spear, or bow and arrow, that proves the 
dearest treasure of all. 

Old wooden, or bone, gambling sticks, finely carved, 
polished to a satin finish, and sometimes inlaid with frag¬ 
ments of shell, or burnt with totemic designs, are also 
greatly to be desired. 

The main features of interest in Sitka are the Greek- 
Russian church and the walk along the beach to Indian 
River Park. 

A small admission fee is charged at the church door. 
This goes to the poor-fund of the parish. It is the only 
church in Alaska that charges a regular fee, but in all 
the others there are contribution boxes. When one has, 
with burning cheeks, seen his fellow-Americans drop 
dimes and nickels into the boxes of these churches, which 
have been specially opened at much inconvenience for 
their accommodation, he is glad to see the fifty-cent fee 
at the door charged. 

There are no seats in the church. The congregation 
stands or kneels during the entire service. There are 
three sanctuaries and as many altars. The chief sanctuary 
is the one in the middle, and it is dedicated to the Archi- 
Strategos Michael. 

The sanctuary is separated from the body of the church 
by a screen — which has a “ shaky ” look, by the way — 
adorned with twelve ikons, or images, in costly silver 
and gold casings, artistically chased. 

The middle door leading into the sanctuary is called 
the Royal Gates, because through it the Holy Sacrament, 
or Eucharist, is carried out to the faithful. It is most 
beautifully carved and decorated. Above it is a magnifi¬ 
cent ikon, representing the Last Supper. The heavy 
silver casing is of great value. The casings alone of the 
twelve ikons on the screen cost many thousands of dollars. 

An interesting story is attached to the one of the patron 


194 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


saint of the church, the Archangel Michael. The ship 
Neva , on her way to Sitka, was wrecked at the base of 
Mount Edgecumbe. A large and valuable cargo was 
lost, but the ikon was miraculously cast upon the beach, 
uninjured. - 

Many of the ikons and other adornments of the church 
were presented by the survivors of wrecked vessels; others 
by illustrious friends in Russia. One that had paled and 
grown dim was restored by Mrs. Emmons, the wife of 
Lieutenant Emmons, whose work in Alaska was of great 
value. 

When the Royal Gates are opened the entire sanctuary 
— or Holy of Holies, in which no woman is permitted to 
set foot, lest it be defiled — may be seen. 

To one who does not understand the significance of the 
various objects, the sanctuary proves a disappointment 
until the splendid old vestments of cloth of gold and 
silver are brought out. These were the personal gifts 
of the great Baranoff. They are exceedingly rich and 
sumptuous, as is the bishop’s stole, made of cloth woven of 
heavy silver threads. 

The left-hand chapel is consecrated to “ Our Lady of 
Kazan.” It is adorned with several ikons, one of which, 
“ The Mother of God, ” is at once the most beautiful 
and the most valuable object in the church. An offer of 
fifteen thousand dollars was refused for it. The large 
dark eyes of the madonna are so filled with sorrowful 
tenderness and passion that they cannot be forgotten. 
They follow one about the chapel; and after he has gone 
out into the fresh air and the sunlight he still feels 
them upon him. Those mournful eyes hold a message 
that haunts the one who has once tried to read it. The 
appeal which the unknown Russian artist has painted into 
them produces an effect that is enduring. 

But most precious of all to me were those objects, of 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


195 


whatsoever value, which were presented by Innocentius, 
the Metropolitan of Moscow, the Noble and the Devoted. 
If ever a man went forth in search of the Holy Grail, it 
was he; and if ever a man came near finding the Holy 
Grail, it was, likewise, he. 

From Sitka to Unalaska, and up the Yukon so far as 
the Russian influence goes, his name is still murmured with 
a veneration that is almost adoration. 

Historians know him and praise him, without a dissent¬ 
ing voice, as Father Veniaminoff ; for it was under this 
simple and unassuming title that the pure, earnest, and 
devout young Russian came to the colonies in 1823, carry¬ 
ing the high, white light of his faith to the wretched 
natives, among whom his life work was to be, from that 
time on, almost to the end. 

No man has ever done as much for the natives of Alaska 
as he, not even Mr. Duncan. His heart being all love 
and his nature all tenderness, he grew to love the gentle 
Aleutians and Sitkans, and so won their love and trust 
in return. 

In the Sitka church is a very costly and splendid 
vessel, used for the Eucharist, which was once stolen, but 
afterward returned. There are censers of pure silver 
and chaste design, which tinkle musically as they swing. 

A visit to the building of the Russian Orthodox 
Mission is also interesting. There will be found some 
of the personal belongings of Father Veniaminoff — his 
clock, a writing-desk which was made by his own hands, 
of massive and enduring workmanship, and several 
articles of furniture; also the ikon which once adorned 
his cell — a gift of Princess Potemkin. 

Sir George Simpson describes an Easter festival at 
Sitka in 1842. He found all the people decked in festal 
attire upon his arrival at nine o’clock in the morning. 
They were also, men and women, quite “ tipsy.” 


196 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Upon arriving at Governor Etholin’s residence, lie was 
ushered into the great banqueting room, where a large 
party was rising from breakfast. This party was com¬ 
posed of the bishop and priests, the Lutheran clergyman, 
the naval officers, the secretaries, business men, and 
masters and mates of vessels,—numbering in all about 
seventy, — all arrayed in uniforms or, at the least, in ele¬ 
gant dress. 

From morning till night Sir George was compelled 
to “ run a gantlet of kisses.” When two persons met, 
one said, “ Christ is risen ” — and this was a signal for 
prolonged kissing. “Some of them,” adds Sir George, 
naively, “ were certainly pleasant enough; but many, 
even when the performers were of the fair sex, were 
perhaps too highly flavored for perfect comfort.” 

He was likewise compelled to accept many hard-boiled, 
gilded eggs, as souvenirs. 

During the whole week every bell in the chimes of the 
church rang incessantly — from morning to night, from 
night to morning; and poor Sir George found the jan¬ 
gling of “ these confounded bells ” harder to endure than 
the eggs or the kisses. 

Sir George extolled the virtues of the bishop — Veni- 
aminoff. His appearance impressed the Governor-in-Chief 
with awe; his talents and attainments seemed worthy 
of his already exalted station; while the gentleness 
which characterized his every word and deed insensibly 
moulded reverence into love. 

Whymper visited Sitka in 1865, and found Russian 
hospitality under the administration of Matsukoff almost 
as lavish as during Baranoff’s famous reign. 

“ Russian hospitality is proverbial,” remarks Whymper, 
“and we all somewhat suffered therefrom. The first 
phrase of their language acquired by us was ‘ petnatchit 
copla’ — fifteen drops.” This innocently sounding phrase 

















































































Scales and Summit of Chilkoot Pass in 1898 





ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


197 


really meant a good half-tumbler of some undiluted 
liquor, ranging from cognac to raw vodhka, which was 
pressed upon the visitors upon every available occasion. 
A refusal to drink meant an insult to their host; and 
they were often sorely put to it to carry gracefully the 
burden of entertainment which they dared not decline. 

The big brass samovar was in every household, and 
they were compelled to drink strong Russian tea, served 
by the tumblerful. Balls, banquets, and fetes in the 
gardens of the social clubs were given in their honor ; 
while their fleet of four vessels in the harbor was daily 
visited by large numbers of Russian ladies and gentlemen 
from the town. 

At all seasons of the year the tables of the higher 
classes were supplied with game, chickens, pork, vege¬ 
tables, berries, and every luxury obtainable ; while the 
food of the common laborers was, in summer, fresh fish, and 
in winter, salt fish. 

Sir George Simpson attended a Koloshian funeral at 
Sitka, or New Archangel, in 1842. The body of the 
deceased, arrayed in the gayest of apparel, lay in state 
for two or three days, during which time the relatives 
fasted and bewailed their loss. At the end of this 
period, the body was placed on a funeral pyre, round 
which the relatives gathered, their faces painted black 
and their hair covered with eagles’ down. The pipe was 
passed around several times; and then, in obedience to 
a secret sign, the fire was kindled in several places at 
once. Wailings and loud lamentations, accompanied by 
ceaseless drumming, continued until the pyre was entirely 
consumed. The ashes were, at last, collected into an 
ornamental box, which was elevated on a scaffold. 
Many of these monuments were seen on the side of a 
neighboring hill. 

A wedding witnessed at about the same time was quite 


198 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


as interesting as the funeral, presenting several unique 
features. A good-looking Creole girl, named Archi- 
manditoffra, married the mate of a vessel lying in port. 

-Attended by their friends and the more important 
residents of Sitka, the couple proceeded at six o’clock 
in the evening to the church, where a tiresome service, 
lasting an hour and a half, was solemnized by a priest. 

The bridegroom then led his bride to the ballroom. 
The most startling feature of this wedding was of Russian, 
rather than savage, origin. The person compelled to bear 
all the expense of the wedding was chosen to give the bride 
away; and no man upon whom this honor was conferred 
ever declined it. 

This custom might be followed with beneficial results to¬ 
day, a bachelor being always honored, until, in sheer self- 
defence, many a young man would prefer to pay for his own 
wedding to constantly paying for the wedding of some 
other man. It is more polite than the proposed tax on 
bachelors. 

At this wedding the beauty and fashion of Sitka were 
assembled. The ladies were showily attired in muslin 
dresses, white satin shoes, silk stockings, and kid gloves ; 
they wore flowers and carried white fans. 

The ball was opened by the bride and the highest 
officer present; and quadrille followed waltz in rapid 
succession until daylight. 

The music was excellent ; and the unfortunate host 
and paymaster of the ceremonies carried out his part like 
a prince. Tea, coffee, chocolate, and champagne were 
served generously, varied with delicate foods, “ petnatchit 
coplas ” of strong liquors, and expensive cigars. 

According to the law of the church, the bridesmaids 
and bridesmen were prohibited from marrying each other ; 
but, owing to the limitations in Sitka, a special dis¬ 
pensation had been granted, permitting such marriages. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


199 - 


From the old Russian cemetery on the hill, a panoramic 
view is obtained of the town, the harbor, the blue water¬ 
ways winding among the green islands to the ocean, and 
the snow mountains floating above the pearly clouds on 
all sides. In a quiet corner of the cemetery rests the 
first Princess Matsukoff, an Englishwoman, who graced 
the “ Castle on the Rock ” ere she died, in the middle 
sixties. Her successor was young, beautiful, and gay ; 
and her reign was as brilliant as it was brief. She it was 
who, through bitter and passionate tears, dimly beheld the 
Russian flag lowered from its proud place on the castle’s 
lofty flagstaff and the flag of the United States sweeping 
up in its stead. But the first proud Princess Matsukoff 
slept on in her quiet resting-place beside the blue and 
alien sea, and grieved not. 

From all parts of the harbor and the town is seen the 
kekoor, the “rocky promontory,” from which Baranoff 
and Lisiansky drove the Koloshians after the massacre, 
and upon which Baranoff’s castle later stood. 

It rises abruptly to a height of about eighty feet, and 
is ascended by a long flight of wooden steps. 

The first castle was burned ; another was erected, and 
was destroyed by earthquake ; was rebuilt, and was 
again destroyed — the second time by fire. The emi¬ 
nence is now occupied by the home of Professor George- 
son, who conducts the government agricultural experi¬ 
mental work in Alaska. 

The old log trading house which is on the right side of. 
the street leading to the church is wearing out at last. 
On some of the old buildings patches of modern weather¬ 
boarding mingle with the massive and ancient logs, pro¬ 
ducing an effect that is almost grotesque. 

In the old hotel Lady Franklin once rested with an 
uneasy heart, during the famous search for her husband. 

The barracks and custom-house front on a vivid green 


200 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


parade ground that slopes to the water. Slender gravelled 
roads lead across this well-kept green to the quarters and 
to the building formerly occupied by Governor Brady 
as the Executive Offices. His residence is farther on, 
around the bay, in the direction of the Indian village. 

There are fine fur and curio stores on the main street. 

The homes of Sitka .are neat and attractive. The 
window boxes and carefully tended gardens are brilliant 
with bloom in summer. 

Passing through the town, one soon reaches the hard, 
white road that leads along the curving shingle to Indian 
River. The road curves with the beach and goes glim¬ 
mering on ahead, until it disappears in the green mist of 
the forest. 

Surely no place on this fair earth could less deserve the 
offensive name of “ park ” than the strip of land border¬ 
ing Indian River,— five hundred feet wide on one bank, and 
two hundred and fifty feet on the other, between the falls 
and the low plain where it pours into the sea, — which in 
1890 was set aside for this purpose. 

It has been kept undefiled. There is not a sign, nor a 
painted seat, nor a little stiff flower bed in it. There is 
not a striped paper bag, nor a peanut shell, nor the peel 
of an orange anywhere. 

It must be that only those people who live on beauty, 
instead of food, haunt this beautiful spot. 

The spruce, the cedar, and the pine grow gracefully and 
luxuriantly, their lacy branches spreading out flat and 
motionless upon the still air, tapering from the ground 
to a fine point. The hard road, velvet-napped with the 
spicy needles of centuries, winds through them and under 
them, the branches often touching the wayfarer’s bared 
head. 

The devil’s-club grows tall and large ; there are thickets 
of salmon-berry and thimbleberry; there are banks of 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


201 


velvety green, and others blue with violets ; there are 
hedges of wild roses, the bloom looking in the distance 
like an amethyst cloud floating upon the green. 

The Alaskan thimbleberry is the most delicious berry 
that grows. Large, scarlet, velvety, yet evanescent, it 
scarcely touches the tongue ere its ravishing flavor has be¬ 
come a memory. 

The vegetation is all of tropical luxuriance, and, owing 
to its constant dew and mist baths, it is of an intense 
and vivid green that is fairly dazzling where the sun 
touches it. One of the chief charms of the wooded reserve 
is its stillness — broken only by the musical rush of waters 
and the lyrical notes _of birds. A kind of lavender twi¬ 
light abides beneath the trees, and, with the narrow, 
spruce-aisled vistas that open at every turn, gives one a 
sensation as of being in some dim and scented cathedral. 

Enticing paths lead away from the main road to the 
river, where the voices of rapids and cataracts call; but 
at last one comes to an open space, so closely walled round 
on all sides by the forest that it may easily be passed 
without being seen — and to which one makes his way 
with difficulty, pushing aside branches of trees and tall 
ferns as he proceeds. 

Here, producing an effect that is positively uncanny, 
are several great totems, shining out brilliantly from their 
dark green setting. 

One experiences that solemn feeling which every one 
has known, as of standing among the dead ; the shades 
of Baranoff, Behring, Lisiansky, Veniaminoff, Chirikoff, 
— all the unknown murdered ones, too, — go drifting 
noiselessly, with reproachful faces, through the dim 
wood. 

It was on the beach near this grove of totems that 
Lisiansky’s men were murdered by Ivoloshians in 1804, 
while obtaining water for the ship. 


202 


Alaska .* the great country 


The Sitka Industrial Training School was founded 
nearly thirty years ago by ex-Governor Brady, who was 
then a missionary to the Indians of Alaska. 

It was first attended by about one hundred natives, 
ranging from the very young to the very old. This school 
was continued, with varied success, by different people — 
including Captain Glass, of the Jamestown —until Dr. 
Sheldon Jackson became interested, and, with Mr. Brady 
and Mr. Austin, sought and obtained aid from the Board 
of Home Missions of the Presbyterian Church. 

A building was erected for a Boys’ Home, and this was 
followed, a year later, by a Girls’ Home. 

The girls were taught to speak the English language, 
cook, wash, iron, sew, mend, and to become cleanly, 
cheerful, honest, honorable women. 

The boys were taught to speak the English language; 
the trades of shoemaking, coopering, boat-building, car¬ 
pentry, engineering, rope-making, and all kinds of agricul¬ 
tural work. The rudiments of bricklaying, painting, and 
paper-hanging are also taught. 

During the year 1907 a Bible Training Department 
was added for those among the older boys and girls who 
desired to obtain knowledge along such lines, or who as¬ 
pired to take up missionary work among their people. 

Twelve pupils took up the work, and six continued it 
throughout the year. The work in this department is, of 
course, voluntary on the part of the student. 

The Sitka Training School is not, at present, a govern¬ 
ment school. During the early nineties it received aid 
from the government, under the government’s method of 
subsidizing denominational schools, where they were al¬ 
ready established, instead of incurring the extra expense 
of establishing new government schools in the same locali¬ 
ties. 

When the government ceased granting such subsidies, 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


203 


the Sitka School—as well as many other denominational 
schools — lost this assistance. 

The property of the school has always belonged to the 
Presbyterian Board of Home Missions. 

For many years it was customary to keep pupils at the 
schools from their entrance until their education was 
finished. 

In the summer of 1905 the experiment was tried of per¬ 
mitting a few pupils to go to their homes during vacation. 
All returned in September cheerfully and willingly; and 
now, each summer, more than seventy boys and girls re¬ 
turn to their homes to spend the time of vacation with 
their families. 

In former years, it would have been too injurious to the 
child to be subjected to the influence of its parents, who 
were but slightly removed from savagery. To-day, al¬ 
though many of the old heathenish rites and customs still 
exist, they have not so deep a hold upon the natives; and 
it is hoped, and expected, that the influence of the students 
for good upon their people will far exceed that of their 
people for ill upon them. 

During the past year ninety boys and seventy-four girls 
were enrolled — or as many as can be accommodated at 
the schools. They represent the three peoples into which 
the Indians of southeastern Alaska are now roughly 
divided — the Thlinkits, the Haidahs, and the Tsimpsians. 
They come from Katalla, Yakutat, Skagway, Klukwan, 
Haines, Douglas, Juneau, Kasaan, Howkan, Metlakahtla, 
Hoonah — and, indeed, from almost every point in south¬ 
eastern Alaska where a handful of Indians are gathered 
together. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


The many people who innocently believe that there are 
no birds in Alaska may be surprised to learn that there 
are, at least, fifty different species in the southeastern part 
of that country. 

Among these are the song sparrow, the rufous humming¬ 
bird, the western robin, of unfailing cheeriness, the russet- 
backed thrush, the barn swallow, the golden-crowned 
kinglet, the Oregon Junco, the winter wren, and the 
bird that, in liquid clearness and poignant sweetness of 
note, is second only to the western meadow-lark — the 
poetic hermit thrush. 

He that has heard the impassioned notes of this shy 
bird rising from the woods of Sitka will smile at the 
assertion that there are no birds in Alaska. 

On the way to Indian River is the museum, whose in¬ 
teresting and valuable contents were gathered chiefly by 
Sheldon Jackson, and which still bears his name. 

Dr. Jackson has been the general Agent of Education 
in Alaska since 1885, and the Superintendent of Presby¬ 
terian Missions since 18TT. His work in Alaska in early 
years was, undoubtedly, of great value. 

The museum stands in an evergreen grove, not far from 
the road. Here may be found curios and relics of great 
value. It is to be regretted, however, that, many of the 
articles are labelled with the names of collectors instead of 
those of the real donors — at least, this is the information 
voluntarily given me by some of the donors. 

204 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


205 


In the collection is an interesting war bonnet, which 
was donated by Chief Kath-le-an, who planned and carried 
out the siege of 1878. 

It was owned by one of Kath-le-an’s ancestors. It is 
made of wood, carved into a raven’s head. It has been 
worked and polished until the shell is more like velvet 
than wood, and is dyed black. 

It was many years ago a polite custom of the Thlinkits 
to paint and oil the face of a visitor, as a matter of hospi¬ 
tality and an indication of friendly feeling and respect. 

A visitor from another tribe to Sitka fell ill and died, 
shortly after having been so oiled and honored, and his 
people claimed that the oil was rancid, — or that some 
evil spell had been oiled into him, — and a war arose. 

The Sitka tribe began the preparation of the raven war 
bonnet and worked upon it all summer, while actual 
hostilities were delayed. 

As winter came on, Kath-le-an’s ancestor one day 
addressed his young men, telling them that the new war 
bonnet on his head would serve as a talisman to carry 
them to a glorious victory over their enemies. 

Through the battle that followed, the war bonnet was 
everywhere to be seen in the centre of the most furious 
fighting. Only once did it go down, and then only for a 
moment, when the chief struggled to his feet; and as his 
young men saw the symbol of victory rising from the dust, 
the thrill of renewed hope that went through them im¬ 
pelled them forward in one splendid, simultaneous move¬ 
ment that won the day. 

In 1804 Kath-le-an himself wore the hat when his people 
were besieged for many days by the Russians. 

On this occasion the spell of the war bonnet was broken; 
and upon his utter defeat, Kath-le-an, feeling that it had 
lost its charm for good luck, buried the unfortunate symbol 
in the woods. 


206 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Many years afterward Kath-le-an exhumed the hat and 
presented it to the museum. 

“We will hereafter dwell in peace with the white 
people,” he said; “so my young men will never again 
need the war bonnet.” 

Kath-le-an has to this day kept his word. He is still 
alive, but is nearly ninety years old. 

Interesting stories and myths are connected with a 
large number of the relics in the museum — to which the 
small admission fee of fifty cents is asked. 

One of the early picturesque block-houses built by the 
Russians still stands in a good state of preservation on a 
slight eminence above the town, on the way to the old 
cemetery. 

The story of the lowering of the Russian flag, and the 
hoisting of the American colors at Sitka, is fraught with 
significance to the superstitious. 

The steamship John L. Stevens , carrying United States 
troops from San Francisco, arrived in Sitka Harbor 
on the morning of October 9, 186T. The gunboats 
Jamestown and Resaca had already arrived and were lying 
at anchor. The Ossipee did not enter the harbor until 
the morning of the eighteenth. 

At three o’clock of the same day the command of Gen¬ 
eral Jefferson C. Davis, about two hundred and fifty 
strong, in full uniform, armed and handsomely equipped, 
were landed, and marched to the heights where the famous 
Governor’s Castle stood. Here they were met by a com¬ 
pany of Russian soldiers who took their place upon the 
left of the flagstaff. 

The command of General Davis formed on the right. 
The United States flag, which was to float for the first 
time in possession of Sitka, was in the care of a color 
guard — a lieutenant, a sergeant, and ten men. 

Besides the officers and troops, there were present the 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


207 


Prince and Princess Matsukoff, many Russian and Ameri¬ 
can residents, and some interested Indians. 

It was arranged by Captain Pestchouroff and General 
Lovell N. Rosseau, Commissioner for the United States, 
that the United States should lead in firing the first 
salute, but that there should be alternate guns from the 
American and Russian batteries — thus giving the flag 
of each nation a double national salute. 

The ceremony was begun by the lowering of the Russian 
flag — which caused the princess to burst into passionate 
weeping, while all the Russians gazed upon their colors 
with the deepest sorrow and regret marked upon their faces. 

As the battery of the Ossipee led off in the salute and 
the deep peals crashed upon Mount Verstovi and rever¬ 
berated across the bay, an accident occurred which has 
ever been considered an omen of misfortune. 

The Russian flag became entangled about the ropes, 
owing to a.high wind, and refused to be lowered. 

The staff was a native pine, about ninety feet in height. 
Russian soldiers, who were sailors as well, at once set out 
to climb the pole. It was so far to the flag, however, that 
their strength failed ere they reached it. 

A “ boatswain’s chair ” was hastily rigged of rope, and 
another Russian soldier was hoisted to the flag. On 
reaching it, he untangled it and then made the mistake 
of dropping it to the ground, not understanding Captain 
Pestchouroff’s energetic commands to the contrary. 

It fell upon the bayonets of the Russian soldiers — 
which was considered an ill omen for Russia. 

The United States flag was then slowly hoisted by 
George Lovell Rosseau, and the salutes were fired as be¬ 
fore, the Russian water battery leading this time. 

The hoisting of the flag was so timed that at the exact 
instant of its reaching its place, the report of the last big 
gun of the Ossipee roared out its final salute. 


208 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Upon the completion of the salutes, Captain Pestchou- 
roff approached the commissioner and said : — 

“ General Rosseau, by authority of his Majesty, the 
Emperor of Russia, I transfer to the United States the 
Territory of Alaska.” 

The transfer was simply accepted, and the ceremony 
was at an end. 

No one understanding the American spirit can seriously 
condemn the Americans present for the three cheers which 
burst spontaneously forth; yet there are occasions upon 
which an exhibition of good taste, repression, and con¬ 
sideration for the people of other nationalities present is 
more admirable and commendable than a spread-eagle burst 
of patriotism. 

The last trouble caused by the Sitkan Indians was in 
1878. The sealing schooner San Diego carried among 
its crew seven men of the Kake-sat-tee clan. The schooner 
was wrecked and six of the Kake-sat-tees were drowned. 
Chief Kath-le-an demanded of Colonel M. D. Ball, collector 
of customs and, at that time, the only representative of 
the government in Sitka, one thousand blankets for the 
life of each man drowned. 

Colonel Ball, appreciating the gravity of the situation, 
and desiring time to prepare for the attack which he knew 
would be made upon the town, promised to write to the 
company in San Francisco and to the government in 
Washington. 

After a long delay a reply to his letter arrived from the 
company, which refused, as he had expected, to allow the 
claim, and stated that no wages, even, were due the men 
who were drowned. 

The government — which at that time had a vague idea 
that Alaska was a great iceberg floating between America 
and Siberia — paid no attention to the plea for assistance. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


209 


When Chief Kath-le-an learned that payment in blankets 
would not be made, he demanded the lives of six white 
men. This, also, being refused, he withdrew to prepare 
for battle. 

Then hasty preparations were made in the settlement 
to meet the hourly expected attack. All the firearms were 
made ready for action, and a guard kept watch day and 
night. The Russian women and children were quartered 
in the home of Father Nicolai Metropolsky; the Americans 
in the custom-house. 

The Indians held their war feast many miles from 
Sitka. On their way to attack the village they passed 
the White Sulphur Hot Springs, on the eastern shore of 
Baranoff Island, and murdered the man in charge. 

They then demanded the lives of five white men, and 
when their demand was again refused, they marched 
stealthily upon the settlement. 

However, Sitka possessed a warm and faithful friend 
in the person of Anna-Hoots, Chief of the Kak-wan-tans. 
He and his men met the hostile party and, while attempt¬ 
ing to turn them aside from their murderous purpose, a 
general fight among the two clans was precipitated. 

Before the Kake-sat-tees could again advance, a mail- 
boat arrived, and the war passion simmered. 

When the boat sailed, a petition was sent to the British 
authorities at Esquimault, asking, for humanity’s sake, that 
assistance be sent to Sitka. 

Kath-le-an had retreated for reenforcement; and on the 
eve of his return to make a second attack, H.M.S. Osprey 
arrived in the harbor. 

The appeal to another nation for aid, and the bitter 
newspaper criticism of its own indifference, had at last 
aroused the United States government to a realization of 
its responsibilities. The revenue cutter Wolcott dropped 
anchor in the Sitka Harbor a few days after the Osprey; 


210 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


and from that time on Sitka was not left without 
protection. 

Along the curving road to Indian River stands the soft 
gray Episcopal Church, St. Peter’s-by-the-Sea. Built of 
rough gray stone and shingles, it is an immediate pleasure 
and rest to the eye. 

“ Its doors stand open to the sea, 

The wind goes thro’ at will, 

And bears the scent of brine and blue 
To the far emerald hill.” 

Any stranger may enter alone, and passing into any 
pew, may kneel in silent communion with the God who 
has created few things on this earth more beautiful than 
Sitka. 

No admission is asked. The church is free to the 
prince and the pauper, the sinner and the saint; to those 
of every creed, and to those of no creed at all. 

The church has no rector, but is presided over by P. T. 
Rowe, the Bishop of All Alaska and the Beloved of All 
Men; him who carries over land and sea, over ice and 
everlasting snow, over far tundra wastes and down the 
lone and mighty Yukon in his solitary canoe or bidarka, 
by dog team and on foot, to white people and dark, and 
to whomsoever needs — the simple, sweet, and blessed 
message of Love. 

It was in 1895 that Reverend P. T. Rowe, Rector of 
St. James’ Church, Sault Sainte Marie, .was confirmed as 
Bishop of Alaska. He went at once to that far and un¬ 
known land ; and of him and his work there no words 
are ever heard save those of love and praise. He is bishop, 
rector, and travelling missionary; he is doctor, apothecary, 
and nurse; he is the hope and the comfort of the dying 
and the pall-bearer of the dead. He travels many hun¬ 
dreds of miles every year, by lone and perilous, ways, over 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


211 


the ice and snow, with only an Indian guide and a team 
of huskies, to carry the word of God into dark places. 
He is equally at ease in the barabara and in the palace¬ 
like homes of the rich when he visits the large cities of the 
world. 

Bishop Rowe is an exceptionally handsome man, of 
courtly bearing and polished manners. The moment he 
enters a church his personality impresses itself upon the 
people assembled to hear him speak. 

On a gray August Sunday in Nome — three thousand 
miles from Sitka — I was surprised to see so many peo¬ 
ple on their way to midday service, Alaska not being 
famed for its church-going qualities. • 

“ Oh, it is the Bishop,” said the hotel clerk, smiling. 
“ Bishop Rowe,” he added, apparently as an after-thought. 
“ Everybody goes to church when he comes to town.” 

I had never seen Bishop Rowe, and I had planned to 
spend the day alone on the beach, for the surf was rolling 
high and its musical thunder filled the town. Its lonely, 
melancholy spell was upon me, and its call was loud and 
insistent; and my heart told me to go. 

But I had heard so much of Bishop Rowe and his self- 
devoted work in Alaska that I finally turned my back 
upon temptation and joined the narrow stream of human¬ 
ity wending its way to the little church. 

When Bishop Rowe came bending his dark head 
through the low door leading from the vestry, clad in his 
rich scarlet and purple and gold-embroidered robes, I 
thought I had never seen so handsome a man. 

But his appearance was forgotten the moment he began 
to speak. He talked to us ; but he did not preach. And 
we, gathered there from so many distant lands — each 
with his own hopes and sins and passions, his own desires 
and selfishness — grew closer together and leaned upon 
the words that were spoken there to us. They were so 


212 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


simple, and so earnest, and so sweet; they were so seri¬ 
ously and so kindly uttered. 

And the text — it went with us, out into the sea-sweet, 
surf-beaten streets of Nome ; and this was it, “Love me ; 
and tell me so.” Like the illustrious Veniaminoff, Bishop 
Rowe, of a different church and creed, and working in a 
later, more commercial age, has yet won his hold upon 
northern hearts by the sane and simple way of Love. 
The text of his sermon that gray day in the surf-beaten, 
tundra-sweet city of Nome is the text that he is patiently 
and cheerfully working out in his noble life-work. 

Mr. Duncan, at Metlakahtla, has given his life to the 
Indians who have gathered about him ; but Bishop Rowe, 
of All Alaska, has given his life to dark men and white, 
wherever they might be. Year after year he has gone out 
by perilous ways to find them, and to scatter among them 
his words of love — as softly and as gently as the Indians 
used to scatter the white down from the breasts of sea¬ 
birds, as a message of peace to all men. 

The White Sulphur Hot Springs, now frequently called 
the Sitka Hot Springs, are situated on Hot Springs Bay 
on the eastern shore of Baranoff Island, almost directly 
east of Sitka. 

The bay is sheltered by many small green islands, with 
lofty mountains rising behind the sloping shores. It is 
an ideally beautiful and desirable place to visit, even aside 
from the curative qualities of the clear waters which bubble 
from pools and crevices among the rocks. These springs 
have been famous since their discovery by Lisiansky in 
1805. Sir George Simpson visited them in 1842; and 
with every year that has passed their praises have been 
more enthusiastically sung by the fortunate ones who 
have voyaged to that dazzlingly green and jewelled 
region. 

The main spring has a temperature of one hundred and 



Summit of Chilkoot Pass, 1808 




















































ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


213 


fifty-three degrees Fahrenheit, its waters cooking eggs in 
eight minutes. From this spring the baths are fed, their 
waters, flowing down to the sea, being soon reduced in 
temperature to one hundred and thirty degrees. 

Filmy vapors float over the vicinity of the springs and 
rise in funnel-shaped columns which may be seen at a 
considerable distance, and which impart an atmosphere of 
mystery and unreality to the place. 

Vegetation is of unusual luxuriance, even for this land 
of tropical growth; and in recent years experiments with 
melons and vegetables which usually mature in tropic 
climes only, have been entirely successful in this steamy 
and balmy region. 

There are four springs, in whose waters the Indians, 
from the time of their discovery, have sought to wash away 
the ills to which flesh is heir. They came hundreds of 
miles and lay for hours at a time in the healing baths with 
only their heads visible. The bay was neutral ground 
where all might come, but where none might make set¬ 
tlement or establish claims. 

The waters near abound in fish and water-fowl, and the 
forests with deer, bears, and other large game. 

The place is coming but slowly to the recognition of the 
present generation. When the tropic beauty of its loca¬ 
tion and the curative powers of its waters are more gener¬ 
ally known, it will be a Mecca for pilgrims. 

The main station of Government Agricultural Experi¬ 
mental work in Alaska is located at Sitka. Professor C. 
C. Georgeson is the special agent in charge of the work, 
which has been very successful. It has accomplished more 
than anything else in the way of dispelling the erroneous 
impressions which people have received of Alaska by read¬ 
ing the descriptions of early explorers who fancied that 
every drift of snow was a living glacier and every feather 
the war bonnet of a savage. 


214 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


In 1906, at Coldfoot, sixty miles north of the Arctic 
Circle, were grown cucumbers eight inches long, nineteen- 
inch rhubarb, potatoes four inches long, cabbages whose 
matured heads weighed eight pounds, and turnips weigh¬ 
ing sixteen pounds — all of excellent quality. 

At Bear Lake, near Seward and Cook Inlet, were grown 
good potatoes, radishes, lettuce, carrots, beets, rhubarb, 
strawberries, raspberries, Logan berries, blackberries ; also, 
roses, lilacs, and English ivy. In this locality cows and 
chickens thrive and are profitable investments for those 
who are not too indolent to take care of them. 

Alaskan lettuce must be eaten to be appreciated. Dur¬ 
ing the hot days and the long, light hours of the nights it 
grows so rapidly that its crispness and delicacy of flavor 
cannot be imagined. 

Everything in Alaska is either the largest, the best, or 
most beautiful, in the world, the people who live there 
maintain ; and this soon grows to be a joke to the traveller. 
But when the assertion that lettuce grown in Alaska is 
the most delicious in the world is made, not a dissenting 
voice is heard. 

Along the coast, seaweed and fish guano are used as 
fertilizers; and soil at the mouth of a stream where 
there is silt is most desirable for vegetables. 

In southeastern Alaska and along the coast to Kodiak, 
at Fairbanks and Copper Centre, at White Horse, Daw¬ 
son, Rampart, Tanana, Council City, Eagle, and other 
places on the Yukon, almost all kinds of vegetables, 
berries, and flowers grow luxuriantly and bloom and bear 
in abundance. One turnip, of fine flavor, has been found 
sufficient for several people. 

In the vicinity of the various hot-springs, even corn, 
tomatoes, and muskmelons were successful to the highest 
degree. 

On the Yukon cabbages form fine white, solid heads; 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


215 


cauliflower is unusually fine and white ; beets grow to a 
good size, are tender, sweet, and of a bright red ; peas are 
excellent; rhubarb, parsley, and celery were in many 
places successful. Onions seem to prove a failure in 
nearly all sections of the country ; and potatoes, turnips, 
and lettuce are the prize vegetables. 

Grain growing is no longer attempted. The experiment 
made by the government, in the coast region, proved en¬ 
tirely unsatisfactory. It will usually mature, but August, 
September, and October are so rainy that it is not possible 
to save the crop. It is, however, grown as a forage crop, 
for which purpose it serves excellently. 

The numerous small valleys, coves, and pockets afford 
desirable locations for gardens, berries, and some varieties 
of fruit trees. 

In the interior encouraging success has been obtained 
with grain. The experiments at Copper Centre have not 
been so satisfactory as at Rampart, three and a half degrees 
farther north, on the Yukon. 

At Copper Centre heavy frosts occur as early as August 
14 ; while at Rampart no “ killing ” frosts have been known 
before the grain had ripened, in the latter part of August. 

Rampart is the loveliest settlement on the Yukon, with 
the exception of Tanana. Across the river from Rampart, 
the green fields of the Experimental Station slope down 
to the water. The experiments carried on here by Super¬ 
intendent Rader, under the general supervision of Pro¬ 
fessor Georgeson — who visits the stations yearly—have 
been very satisfactory. 

Experimental work was begun at Rampart in 1900, and 
grain has matured there every year, while at Copper 
Centre only one crop of four has matured. In 1906, 
owing to dry weather, the growth was slow until the mid¬ 
dle of July; from that date on to the latter part of 
August there were frequent rains, causing a later growth 


216 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


of grain than usual. The result of these conditions was 
that when the first “ killing ” frost occurred, the grain 
was still growing, and all plats, save those seeded earliest, 
were -spoiled for the finer purposes. The frosted grain 
was, however, immediately cut for hay, twenty tons of 
which easily sold for four thousand, one hundred and 
fifty-two dollars. 

These results prove that even where grain cannot be 
grown to the best advantage, it may be profitably grown 
for hay. For the latter purpose larger growing varieties 
would be sown, which would produce a much heavier yield 
and bring larger profits. At present all the feed consumed 
in the interior by the horses of pack trains and of travel¬ 
lers is hauled in from tide-water, — a hundred miles, at 
least, and frequently two or three times as far, — and 
two hundred dollars a ton for hay is a low price. The 
actual cost of hauling a ton of hay from Valdez to Cop¬ 
per Centre, one hundred miles, is more than two hundred 
dollars. 

Road-house keepers advertise “ specially low ” rates on 
hay at twenty cents a pound, the ordinary retail price at 
that distance from tide-water being five hundred dollars 
a ton. 

The most serious drawback to the advancement of agri¬ 
culture in Alaska is the lack of interest on the part of the 
inhabitants. Probably not fifty people could be found in 
the territory who went there for the purpose of making 
homes. Now and then a lone dreamer of dreams may be 
found who lives there — or who would gladly live there, 
if he might — only for the beauty of it, which can be found 
nowhere else ; and which will soon vanish before the 
brutal tread of civilization. 

The others go for gold. If they do not expect to dig 
it out of the earth themselves, they plan and scheme to 
get it out of those who have so acquired it. There is 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


217 


no scheme that has not been worked upon Alaska and the 
real workers of Alaska. 

The schemers go there to get gold; honestly, if possible, 
but to get gold ; to live “ from hand to mouth,” while 
they are there, and to get away as quickly as possible and 
spend their gold far from the country which yielded it. 
They have neither the time nor the desire to do anything 
toward the development of the country itself. 

Ex-Governor John G. Brady is one of the few who 
have devoted their lives to the interest and the up-build¬ 
ing of Alaska. 

Thirty years ago he went to Alaska and established his 
home at Sitka. There he has lived all these years with 
his large and interesting family ; there he still lives. 

He has a comfortable home, gardens and orchards that 
leave little to be desired, and has demonstrated beyond 
all doubt that the man who wishes to establish a modern, 
comfortable — even luxurious — home in Alaska, can ac¬ 
complish his purpose without serious hardship to his 
family, however delicate the members thereof may be. 

The Bradys are enthusiasts and authorities on all mat¬ 
ters pertaining to Alaska. 

Governor Brady has been called the “ Rose Governor ” 
of Alaska, because of his genuine admiration for this 
flower. He can scarcely talk five minutes on Alaska 
without introducing the subject of roses ; and no enthusi¬ 
ast has ever talked more simply and charmingly of the 
roses of any land than he talks of the roses of Alaska, — 
the cherished ones of the garden, and the big pink ones 
of Unalaska and the Yukon. 

As missionary and governor, Mr. Brady has devoted 
many years to this splendid country ; and the distressful 
troubles into which he has fallen of late, through no fault 
of his own, can never make a grateful people forget his 
unselfish work for the upbuilding and the civilization of 
Alaska. 


218 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


To-day, Sitka is idyllic. Her charm is too poetic and 
too elusive to be described in prose. A greater contrast 
than she presents td such hustling, commercial towns as 
Juneau, Valdez, Cordova, and Katalla, could scarcely be 
conceived. To drift into the harbor of Sitka is like 
entering another world. 

The Russian influence is still there, after all these years 
— as it is in Kodiak and Unalaska. 


CHAPTER XIX 

In rough weather, steamers bound for Sitka from the 
westward frequently enter Cross Sound and proceed by 
way of Icy Straits and Chatham to Peril. 

Icy Straits are filled, in the warmest months, with ice¬ 
bergs floating down from the many glaciers to the north. 
Of these Muir has been the finest, and is a world-famous 
glacier, owing to the charming descriptions written of it 
by Mr. John Muir. For several years it was the chief 
object of interest on the “ tourist ” trip ; but early in 1900 
an earthquake shattered its beautiful front and so choked 
the bay with immense bergs that the steamer Spokane 
could not approach closer than Marble Island, thirteen 
miles from the front. The bergs were compact and filled 
the whole bay. Since that time excursion steamers have 
not attempted to enter Glacier Bay. 

In the summer of 190T, however, a steamer entered the 
bay and, finding it free of ice, approached close to the 
famed glacier — only to find it resembling a great castle 
whose towers and turrets have fallen to ruin with the pass¬ 
ing of years. Where once shone its opaline palisades is 
now but a field of crumpled ice. 

There are no less than seven glaciers discharging into 
Glacier Bay and sending out beautiful bergs to drift up 
and down Icy Straits with the tides and winds. Rendu, 
Carroll, Grand Pacific, Johns Hopkins, Hugh Miller, and 
Geikie front on the bay or its narrow inlets. 

219 


220 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Brady Glacier has a three-mile frontage on Wimbledon, 
or Taylor, Bay, which opens into Icy Straits. 

When, on her mid-June voyage from Seattle in 1905, 
the Santa Ana drew out and away from Sitka, and turning 
with a wide sweep, went drifting slowly through the maze 
of green islands and set her prow “to Westward,” one of 
the dreams of my life was “come true.” 

I was on my way to the far, lonely, and lovely Aleutian 
Isles, — the green, green isles crested with fire and snow 
that are washed on the north by the waves of Behring 
Sea. 

It was a violet day. There were no warm purple tones 
anywhere; but the cool, sparkling violet ones that mean 
the nearness of mountains of snow. One could almost 
feel the crisp ting of ice in the air, and smell the sunlight 
that opalizes, without melting, the ice. 

Round and white, with the sunken nest of the thunder- 
bird on its crest, Mount Edgecumbe rose before us; the 
pale green islands leaned apart to let us through ; the sea¬ 
birds, white and lavender and rose-touched, floated with 
us; the throb of the steamer was like a pulse beating in 
one’s own blood ; there were words in the violet light that 
lured us on, and a wild sweet song in the waves that 
broke at our prow. 

“ There can be nothing more beautiful on earth,” I said ; 
but I did not know. An hour came soon when I stood 
with bared head and could not speak for the beauty about 
me; when the speech of others jarred upon me like an 
insult, and the throb of the steamer, which had been a 
sensuous pleasure, pierced my exaltation like a blow. 

The long violet day of delight wore away at last, and 
night came on. A wild wind blew from the southwest, 
and the mood of the North Pacific Ocean changed. The 
ship rolled heavily; the waves broke over our decks, We 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


221 


could see them coming — black, bowing, rimmed with 
white. Then came the shock — followed by the awful 
shudder and struggle of the boat. The wind was terrific. 
It beat the breath back into the breast. 

It was terrible and it was glorious. Those were big 
moments on the texas of the Santa Ana; they were worth 
living, they were worth while. But on account of the 
storm, darkness fell at midnight; and as the spray was 
now breaking in sheets over the bridge and texas, I was 
assisted to my cabin — drenched, shivering, happy. 

“ Shut your door,” said the captain, “ or you will be 
washed out of your berth; and wait till to-morrow.” 

I wondered what he meant, but before I could ask him, 
before he could close my cabin door, a great sea towered 
and poised for an instant behind him, then bowed over him 
and carried him into the room. It drenched the whole 
room and everything and everybody in it; then swept 
out again as the ship rolled to starboard. 

My travelling companion in the middle berth uttered 
such sounds as I had never heard before in my life, and 
will probably never hear again unless it be in the North 
Pacific Ocean in the vicinity of Yakutat or Katalla. She 
made one attempt to descend to the floor; but at sight of 
the captain who was struggling to take a polite departure 
after his anything but polite entrance, she uttered the 
most dreadful sound of all and fell back into her berth. 

I have never seen any intoxicated man teeter and lurch 
as he did, trying to get out of our cabin. I sat upon the 
stool where I had been washed and dashed by the sea, and 
laughed. 

He made it at last. He uttered no apologies and no 
adieux; and never have I seen a man so openly relieved 
to escape from the presence of ladies. 

I closed the window. Disrobing was out of the ques¬ 
tion. I could neither stand nor sit without holding 


222 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


tightly to something with both hands for support; and 
when I had lain down, I found that I must hold to both 
sides of the berth to keep myself in. 

44 Serves you right,” complained the occupant of the 
middle berth, 44 for staying up on the texas until such an 
unearthly hour. I’m glad you can’t undress. Maybe 
you’ll come in at a decent hour after this! ” 

It is small wonder that Behring and Chirikoff disagreed 
and drifted apart in the North Pacific Ocean. It is my 
belief that two angels would quarrel if shut up in a state¬ 
room in a 44 Yakutat blow ”—than which only a 44 Yakataga 
blow ” is worse; and it comes later. 

I am convinced, after three summers spent in voyaging 
along the Alaskan coast to Nome and down the Yukon, 
that quarrelling with one’s room-mate on a long voyage 
aids digestion. My room-mate and I have never agreed 
upon any other subject; but upon this, we are as one. 

Neither effort nor exertion is required to begin a 
quarrel. It is only necessary to ask with some querulous¬ 
ness, “Are you going to stand before that mirror all 
day?” and hey, presto! we are instantly at it with ham¬ 
mer and tongs. 

Toward daylight the storm grew too terrible for further 
quarrelling; too big for all little petty human passions. 
A coward would have become a man in the face of such a 
conflict. I have never understood how one can com¬ 
mit a cowardly act during a storm at sea. One may dance 
a hornpipe of terror on a public street when a man thrusts 
a revolver into one’s face and demands one’s money. 
That is a little thing, and inspires to little sensations and 
little actions. But when a ship goes down into a black hol¬ 
low of the sea, down, down, so low that it seems as though 
she must go on to the lowest, deepest depth of all — and 
then lies still, shudders, and begins to mount, higher, 
higher, higher, to the very crest of a mountainous wave; if 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


223 


God put anything at all of courage and of bravery into 
the soul of the human being that experiences this, it comes 
to the front now, if ever. 

In that most needlessly cruel of all the ocean disasters 
of the Pacific Coast, the wreck of the Valencia on Seabird 
Reef of the rock-ribbed coast of Vancouver Island, more 
than a hundred people clung to the decks and rigging in 
a freezing storm for thirty-six hours. There was a young 
girl on the ship who was travelling alone. A young man, 
an athlete, of Victoria, who had never met her before, 
assisted her into the rigging when the decks were all 
awash, and protected her there. On the last day before 
the ship went to pieces, two life-rafts were successfully 
launched. Only a few could go, and strong men were 
desired to manage the rafts. The young man in the 
rigging might have been saved, for the ones who did go 
on the raft were the only ones rescued. But when sum¬ 
moned, he made simple answer : — 

“No; I have some one here to care for. I will stay.” 

Better to be that brave man’s wave-battered and fish- 
eaten corpse, than any living coward who sailed away and 
left those desperate, struggling wretches to their awful 
fate. 

The storm died slowly with the night; and at last we 
could sleep. 

It was noon when we once more got ourselves up on 
deck. The sun shone like gold upon the sea, which 
stretched, dimpling, away for hundreds upon hundreds 
of miles, to the south and west. I stood looking across 
it for some time, lost in thought, but at last something 
led me to the other side of the ship. 

All unprepared, I lifted my eyes — and beheld before 
me the glory and the marvel of God. In all the splendor 
of the drenched sunlight, straight out of the violet, 
sparkling sea, rose the magnificent peaks of the Fair- 


224 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


weather Range and towered against the sky. No great 
snow mountains rising from the land have ever affected 
me as did that long and noble chain glistening out of the 
sea. They seemed fairly to thunder their beauty t.o the 
sky. 

From Mount Edgecumbe there is no significant break 
in the mountain range for more than a thousand miles; 
it is a stretch of sublime beauty that has no parallel. 
The Fairweather Range merges into the St. Elias Alps; 
the Alps are followed successively by the Chugach Alps, 
the Kenai and Alaskan ranges, — the latter of which 
holds the loftiest of them all, the superb Mount McKinley, 
— and the Aleutian Range, which extends to the end of 
the Aliaska Peninsula. The volcanoes on the Aleutian 
and Kurile islands complete the ring of snow and fire 
that circles around the Pacific Ocean. 


CHAPTER XX 


Otjr ship having been delayed by the storm, it was 
mid-afternoon when we reached Yakutat. A vast pla¬ 
teau borders the ocean from Cross Sound, north of Bara- 
noff and Chicagoff islands, to Yakutat; and out of this 
plateau rise four great snow peaks — Mount La Perouse, 
Mount Crillon, Mount Lituya, and Mount Fairweather — 
ranging in height from ten thousand to fifteen thousand 
nine hundred feet. 

In all this stretch there are but two bays of any size, 
Lituya and Dry, and they have only historical impor¬ 
tance. 

Lituya Bay was described minutely by La Perouse, 
who spent some time there in 1T86 in his two vessels, the 
Astrolabe and Boussole. 

The entrance to this bay is exceedingly dangerous ; the 
tide enters in a bore, which can only be run at slack tide. 
La Perouse lost two boatloads of men in this bore, on 
the eve of his departure, — a loss which he describes at 
length and with much feeling. 

Before finally departing, he caused to be erected a monu¬ 
ment to the memory of the lost officers and crew on a 
small island which he named Cenotaphe, or Monument, 
Isle. A bottle containing a full account of the disaster 
and the names of the twenty-one men was buried at the 
foot of the monument. 

La Perouse named this bay Port des Frangais. 

The chronicles of this modest French navigator seem, 
225 


Q 


226 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


somehow, to stand apart from those of the other early 
voyagers. There is an appearance of truth and of fine 
feeling in them that does not appear in all. 

He at first attempted to enter Yakutat Bay, which he 
called the Bay of Monti, in honor of the commandant 
of an exploring expedition which he sent out in advance; 
but the sea was breaking with such violence upon the 
beach that he abandoned the attempt. 

He described the savages of Lituya Bay as treacherous 
and thievish. They surrounded the ships in canoes, offer¬ 
ing to exchange fresh fish and otter skins for iron, which 
seemed to be the only article desired, although glass beads 
found some small favor in the eyes of the women. 

La Perouse supposed himself to be the first discoverer 
of this bay. The Russians, however, had been there years 
before. 

The savages appeared to be worshippers of the sun. 
La Perouse pronounced the bay itself to be the most ex¬ 
traordinary spot on the whole earth. It is a great basin, 
the middle of which is unfathomable, surrounded by snow 
peaks of great height. During all the time that he was 
there, he never saw a puff of wind ruffle the surface of 
the water, nor was it ever disturbed, save by the fall of 
masses of ice which were discharged from five different 
glaciers with a thunderous noise which reechoed from the 
farthest recesses of the surrounding mountains. The air 
was so tranquil and the silence so undisturbed that the 
human voice and the cries of sea-birds lying among the 
rocks were heard at the distance of half a league. 

The climate was found to be “ infinitely milder ” than 
that of Hudson Bay of the same latitude. Vegetation 
was extremely vigorous, pines measuring six feet in di¬ 
ameter and rising to a height of one hundred and forty 
feet. 

Celery, sorrel, lupines, wild peas, yarrow, chicory, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


22 ? 


angelica, violets, and many varieties of grass were found 
in abundance, and were used in soups and salads, as 
remedies for scurvy. 

Strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries, the elder, the 
willow, and the broom were found then as they are to¬ 
day. Trout and salmon were taken in the streams, and 
in the bay, halibut. 

It is to be feared that La Perouse was not strong 

e> 

on birds; for in the copses he heard singing “ linnets, 
nightingales , blackbirds, and water quails,” whose songs 
were very agreeable. It was July, which he called the 
“pairing-time.” He found one very fine blue jay; and 
it is surprising that he did not hear it sing. 

For the savages-—-especially the women — the fas¬ 
tidious Frenchman entertained feelings of disgust and 
horror. He could discover no virtues or traits in them 
to praise, conscientiously though he tried. 

They lived in the same kind of habitations that all the 
early explorers found along the coast of Alaska: large 
buildings consisting of one room, twenty-five by twenty 
feet, or larger. Fire was kindled in the middle of these 
rooms on the earth floor. Over it was suspended fish 
of several kinds to be smoked. There was always a large 
hole in the roof — when there was a roof at all — to 
receive the smoke. 

About twenty persons of both sexes dwelt in each of 
these houses. Their habits, customs, and relations were 
indescribably disgusting and indecent. 

Their houses were more loathsome and vile of odor 
than the den of any beast. Even at the present time in 
some of the native villages — notably Belkoffski on the 
Aliaskan Peninsula — all the most horrible odors ever 
experienced in civilization, distilled into one, could not 
equal the stench with which the natives and their habi¬ 
tations reek. As their customs are somewhat cleanlier 


‘228 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


now than they were a hundred and thirty years ago, and 
as upon this one point all the early navigators forcibly 
agree, we may well conclude that they did not exaggerate. 

The one room was used for eating, sleeping, cooking, 
smoking fish, washing their clothes — in their cooking 
and eating wooden utensils, by the way, which are never 
cleansed — and for the habitation of their dogs. 

The men pierced the cartilage of the nose and ears for 
the wearing of ornaments of shell, iron, or other material. 
They filed their teeth down even with the gums with a 
piece of rough stone. The men painted their faces and 
other parts of their bodies in a “ frightful manner ” with 
ochre, lamp-black, and black lead, mixed with the oil of 
the “sea-wolf.” Their hair was frequently greased and 
dressed with the down of sea-birds; the women’s, also. 
A plain skin covered the shoulders of the men, while the 
rest of the body was left entirely naked. 

The women filled the Frenchman with a lively horror. 
The labret in the lower lip, or ladle, as he termed it, wore 
unbearably upon his fine nerves. He considered that the 
whole world would not afford another custom equally 
revolting and disgusting. When the ornament was re¬ 
moved, the lower lip fell down upon the chin, and this 
second picture was more hideous than the first. 

The gallant Captain Dixon, on his voyage a year later, 
was more favorably impressed with the women. He 
must have worn rose-colored glasses. He describes their 
habits and habitations almost as La Perouse did, but uses 
no expression of disgust or horror. He describes the 
women as being of medium size, having straight, well¬ 
shaped limbs. They painted their faces ; but he pre¬ 
vailed upon one woman by persuasion and presents to 
wash her face and hands. Whereupon “ her countenance 
had all the cheerful glow of an English milkmaid’s; and 
the healthy red which suffused her cheeks was even beau- 


























* - -.1 H ' 




* 

















































Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau 


Courtesy of "Webster & Stevens, Seattl 

Pine Falls, Atlin 






ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


229 


tifully contrasted with the white of her neck; her eyes 
were black and sparkling; her eyebrows of the same 
color and most beautifully arched; her forehead so re¬ 
markably clear that the translucent veins were seen 
meandering even in their minutest branches — in short, 
she would be considered handsome even in England.” 
The worst adjectives he applied to the labret were 
“singular” and “curious.” 

Don Maurello and, other navigators found now and then 
a woman who might compete with the beauties of Spain 
and other lands ; but none shared the transports of Dixon, 
who idealized their virtues and condoned their faults. 

Tebenkof loqated two immense glaciers in the bay of 
Lituya, one in each arm, describing them briefly : — 

“ The icebergs fall from the mountains and float over 
the waters of the bay throughout the year. Nothing 
disturbs the deep silence of this terribly grand gorge of 
the mountains but the thunder of the falling icebergs.” 

La Perouse found enormous masses of ice detaching 
themselves from five different glaciers. The water was 
covered with icebergs, and nearness to the shore was 
exceedingly dangerous. His small boat was upset half a 
mile from shore by a mass of ice falling from a glacier. 

Mr. Muir describes La Perouse Glacier as presenting 
grand ice bluffs to the open ocean, into which it occa¬ 
sionally discharged bergs. 

All agree that the appearance and surroundings of the 
bay are extraordinary. 

Yakutat Bay is two hundred and fifteen miles from 
Sitka. It was called Behring Bay by Cook and Van¬ 
couver, who supposed it to be the bay in which the Dane 
anchored in 1741. It was named Admiralty Bay by 
Dixon, and the Bay of Monti by La Perouse. The In¬ 
dian name is the only one which has been preserved. 


230 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

It is so peculiarly situated that although several islands 
lie in front of it, the full force of the North Pacific Ocean 
sweeps into it. At most seasons of the year it is full of 
floating ice which drifts down from the glaciers of Dis¬ 
enchantment Bay. 

At the point on the southern side of the bay which 
Dixon named Mulgrave, and where there is a fine harbor, 
Baranoff established a colony of Siberian convicts about 
1796. His instructions from Shelikoff for the laying-out 
of a city in such a wilderness make interesting reading. 

“ And now it only remains for us to hope that, having 
selected on the mainland a suitable place, you will lay out 
the settlement with some taste and with due regard for 
beauty of construction, in order that when visits are 
made by foreign ships, as cannot fail to happen, it may 
appear more like a town than a village, and that the 
Russians in America may live in a neat and orderly way, 
and not, as in Ohkotsk, in squalor and misery, caused by 
the absence of nearly everything necessary to civilization. 
Use taste as well as practical judgment in locating the 
settlement. Look to beauty, as well as to convenience of 
material and supplies. On the plans, as well as in reality, 
leave room for spacious squares for public assemblies. 
Make the streets not too long, but wide, and let them 
radiate from the squares. If the site is wooded, let trees 
enough stand to line the streets and to fill the gardens, 
in order to beautify the place and preserve a healthy atmos¬ 
phere. Build the houses along the streets, but at some dis¬ 
tance from each other, in order to increase the extent of the 
town. The roofs should be of equal height, and the archi¬ 
tecture as uniform as possible. The gardens should be 
of equal size and provided with good fences along the 
streets. Thanks be to God that you will at least have 
no lack of timber.” 

In the same letter poor Baranoff was reproached for 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 231 

exchanging visits with captains of foreign vessels, and 
warned that he might be carried off to California or some 
other “ desolate ” place. 

The colony of convicts had been intended as an “ agri¬ 
cultural ” settlement; but the bleak location at the foot 
of Mount St. Elias made a farce of the undertaking. 
The site had been chosen by a mistake. A post and for¬ 
tifications were erected, but it is not chronicled that 
Shelikoff’s instructions were carried out. There was 
great mortality among the colonists and their families, 
and constant danger of attack by the Kolosh. Finally, 
in 1805, the fort and settlement were entirely destroyed 
by their cruel and revengeful enemies. 

The new town of Yakutat is three or four miles from 
the old settlement. There is a good wharf at the foot of 
a commanding plateau, which is a good site for a city. 
On the wharf are a saw-mill and cannery. A stiff climb 
along a forest road brings one to a store, several other 
business houses, and a few residences. 

There are good coal veins in the vicinity. The Yakutat 
and Southern Railway leads several miles into the interior, 
and handles a great deal of timber. 

In 1794 Puget sailed the Chatham through the narrow 
channel between the mainland and the islands, leading to 
Port Mulgrave — where Portoff was established in a tent 
with nine of his countrymen and several hundred Kadiak 
natives. He found the channel narrow and dangerous ; 
his vessel grounded, but was successfully floated at re¬ 
turning tide. Passage to Mulgrave was found easy, 
however, by a channel farther to the westward and 
southward. 

In this bay, as in nearly all other localities on the 
Northwest Coast, the Indians coming out to visit them 
paddled around the ship two or three times singing a 
ceremonious song, before offering to come aboard. They 


232 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


gladly exchanged bows, arrows, darts, spears, fish-gigs — 
whatever they may be — kamelaykas, or walrus-gut coats, 
and needlework for white shirts, collars, cravats, and 
other wearing apparel. 

An Indian chief stole Mr. Puget’s gold watch chain 
and seals from his cabin; but it was discovered by Portoff 
and returned. 

The cape extending into the ocean south of the town 
was the Cape Phipps of the Russians. It has long been 
known, however, as Ocean Cape. Cape Manby is on the 
opposite side of the bay. 

Sailing up Yakutat Bay, the Bay of Disenchantment is 
entered and continues for sixty miles, when it merges into 
Russell Fiord, which bends sharply to the south and al¬ 
most reaches the ocean. 

Enchantment Bay would be a more appropriate name. 
The scenery is of varied, magnificent, and ever increasing 
beauty. The climax is reached in Russell Fiord — named 
for Professor Russell, who explored it in a canoe in 1891. 

From Yakutat Bay to the very head of Russell Fiord 
supreme splendor of scenery is encountered, surpassing the 
most vaunted of the Old World. Within a few miles, one 
passes from luxuriant forestation to lovely lakes, lacy 
cascades, bits of green valley; and then, of a sudden, all 
unprepared, into the most sublime snow-mountain fast¬ 
nesses imaginable, surrounded by glaciers and many of 
the most majestic mountain peaks of the world. 

Cascades spring, foaming, down from misty heights, 
and flowers bloom, large and brilliant, from the water to 
the line of snow. 

Malaspina, an Italian in the service of Spain, named 
Disenchantment Bay. Turner Glacier and the vast Hub¬ 
bard Glacier discharge into this bay; and from the re¬ 
ports of the Italian, Tabenkoff, and Vancouver, it has 
been considered possible that the two glaciers may have 


ALA SKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


233 


reached, more than a hundred years ago, across the nar¬ 
rowest bend at the head of Yakutat Bay. 

The fiord is so narrow that the tops of the high snow 
mountains have the appearance of overhanging their 
bases; and to the canoeist floating down the slender, 
translucent water-way, this effect adds to the austerity of 
the scene. 

Captains of regular steamers are frequently offered 
good prices to make a side trip up Yakutat Bay to the 
beginning of Disenchantment; but owing to the dangers 
of its comparatively uncharted waters, they usually de¬ 
cline with vigor. 

One who would penetrate into this exquisitely beauti¬ 
ful, lone, and enchanted region must trust himself to a 
long canoe voyage and complete isolation from his kind. 
But what recompense — what life-rememberable joy! 

Each country has its spell; but none is so great as the 
spell of this lone and splendid land. It is too sacred for 
any light word of pen or lip. The spell of Alaska is the 
spell of God; and it holds all save the basest, whether 
they acknowledge it or deny. Here are sphinxes and 
pyramids built of century upon century’s snow; the 
pale green thunder of the cataract; the roar of the ava¬ 
lanche and the glacier’s compelling march; the flow of 
mighty rivers ; the unbroken silences that swim from 
snow mountain to snow mountain; and the rose of sunset 
whose petals float and fade upon mountain and sea. 

As one sails past these mountains days upon days, they 
seem to lean apart and withdraw in pearly aloofness, 
that others more beautiful and more remote may dawn 
upon the enraptured beholder’s sight. For hundreds of 
miles up and down the coast, and for hundreds into the 
interior, they rise in full view from the ocean which 
breaks upon the nearer ones. At sunrise and at sunset 
each is wrapped in a different color from the others, 


234 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


each in its own light, its own glory — caused by its own 
peculiar shape and its position among the others. 

While the steamer lies at Yakutat passengers may, if 
they desire, walk through the forest to the old village, 
where there is an ancient Thlinkit settlement. There 
is a new one at the new town. The tents and cabins 
climb picturesquely among the trees and ferns from the 
water up a steep hill. 

In 1880 there was a great gold excitement at Yakutat. 
Gold was discovered in the black-sand beaches. A 
number of mining camps were there until the late 
’eighties, and by the use of rotary hand amalgamators, 
men were able to clean up forty dollars a day. 

The bay was flooded by a tidal wave which left the 
beach covered with fish. The oil deposited by their 
decay prevented the action of the mercury, and the camp 
was abandoned. 

The sea is now restoring the black sand, and a second 
Nome may one day spring up on these hills in a single 
night. 

As I have said elsewhere, the Yakutat women are 
among the finest basket weavers of the coast. A finely 
twined Yakutat basket, however small it may be, is a 
prize; but the bottom should be woven as finely and 
as carefully as the body of the basket. Some of the 
younger weavers make haste by weaving the bottom 
coarsely, which detracts from both its artistic and com¬ 
mercial value. 

The instant the end of the gangway touches the wharf 
at Yakutat, the gayly-clad, dark-eyed squaws swarm 
aboard. They settle themselves noiselessly along the 
promenade decks, disposing their baskets, bracelets, 
carved horn spoons, totem-poles, inlaid lamps, and beaded 
moccasins about them. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


235 


If, during the hours of animated barter that follow, 
one or two of the women should disappear, the wise 
woman-passenger will saunter around the ship and take 
a look into her stateroom, to make sure that all is well; 
else, when she does return to it, she may miss silver- 
backed mirrors, bottles of lavender water, bits of jewellery 
that may have been carelessly left in sight, pretty collars 
— and even waists and hats — to say nothing of the 
things which she may later on find. 

These poor dark people were born thieves ; and neither 
the little education they have received, nor the treatment 
accorded them by the majority of white people with 
whom they have been brought into contact, has served 
to wean them entirely from the habits and the instincts 
of centuries. 

At Yakutat, no matter how much good sound sense 
he may possess, the traveller parts with many large 
silver dollars. He thinks of Christmas, and counts his 
friends on one hand, then on the other; then over again, 
on both. 

When the steamer has whistled for the sixth time to 
call in the wandering passengers, and the captain is on the 
bridge; when the last squaw has pigeon-toed herself up 
the gangway, flirting her gay shawl around her and 
chuckling and clucking over the gullibility of the inno¬ 
cent white people; when the last strain from the phono¬ 
graph in the big store on the hill has died across the 
violet water widening between the shore and the with¬ 
drawing ship — the spendthrift passenger retires to his 
cabin and finds the berths overflowing and smelling to 
heaven with Indian things. Then—too late — he sits 
down, anywhere, and reflects. 

The western shore of Yakutat Bay is bounded by the 
largest glacier in the world—the Malaspina. It has a 
sea-frontage of more than sixty miles extending from the 


236 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


bay “ to Westward and the length of its splendid sweep 
from its head to the sea at the foot of Mount St. Elias 
is ninety miles. 

For one whole day the majestic mountain and its 
beautiful companion peaks were in sight of the steamer, 
before the next range came into view. The sea breaks 
sheer upon the ice-palisades of the glacier. Icebergs, 
pale green, pale blue, and rose-colored, march out to 
meet and, bowing, pass the ship. 

One cannot say that he knows what beauty is until he 
has cruised leisurely past this glacier, with the mountains 
rising behind it, on a clear day, followed by a moonlit 
night. 

On one side are miles on miles of violet ocean sweeping 
away into limitless space, a fleck of sunlight flashing like 
a fire-fly in every hollowed wave; on the other, miles on 
miles of glistening ice, crowned by peaks of softest snow. 

At sunset warm purple mists drift in and settle over 
the glacier; above these float banks of deepest rose; 
through both, and above them, glimmer the mountains 
pearlily, in a remote loveliness that seems not of earth. 

But by moonlight to see the glacier streaming down 
from the mountains and out into the ocean, into the mid¬ 
night— silent, opaline, majestic—is worth ten years of 
dull, ordinary living. 

It is as if the very face of God shone through the 
silence and the sublimity of the night. 


CHAPTER XXI 


There is an open roadstead at Yaktag, or Yakataga. 
The ship anchors several miles from shore — when the 
fierce storms which prevail in this vicinity will permit it 
to anchor at all — and passengers and freight are light¬ 
ered ashore. 

I have seen horses hoisted from the deck in their 
wooden cages and dropped into the sea, where they were 
liberated. After their first frightened, furious plunges, 
they headed for the shore, and started out bravely on their 
long swim. The surf was running high, and for a time it 
seemed that they could not escape being dashed upon the 
rocks; but with unerring instinct, they struggled away 
from one rocky place after another until they reached a 
strip of smooth sand up which they were borne by the 
breaking sea, and where they fell for a few moments, ex¬ 
hausted. Then they arose, staggered, threw up their heads 
and ran as I have never seen horses run — with such wild¬ 
ness, such gladness, such utterance of the joy of freedom 
in the fling of their legs, in the streaming of mane and tail. 

They had been penned in a narrow stall under the for¬ 
ward deck for twelve days; they had been battered by 
the storms and unable to lie down and rest; they had been 
plunged from this condition unexpectedly into the ocean 
and compelled to strike out on a long swim for their lives. 

The sudden knowledge of freedom; the smell of 'sun 
and air; the very sweet of life itself—all combined to 
make them almost frantic in the animal expression of their 

jOy- 


237 


238 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


We put down the powerful glasses with which we had 
painfully watched every yard of their progress toward the 
land. 

I looked at the pilot. There was a moisture in his eyes, 
which was not entirely a reflection of that in my own. 

It is one hundred and seventy miles from Yakutat to 
Kayak. Off this stretch of coast, between Lituya and 
Cape Suckling, the soundings are moderate and by whalers 
have long been known as “ Fairweather Grounds.” 

Just before reaching Kayak, Cape Suckling is 
passed. 

The point of this cape is low. It runs up into a con¬ 
siderable hill, which, in turn, sinking to very low land has 
the appearance of an island. It was named by Cook. 

Around this cape lies Comptroller Bay — the bay which 
should have been named Behring’s Bay. It was on the 
two islands at its entrance that Behring landed in 1741. 
He named one St. Elias; and to this island Cook, in 1778, 
gave the name of Kaye, for the excellent reason that the 
“ Reverend Doctor Kaye ” gave him two silver two-penny 
pieces of the date of 1772, which he buried in a bottle on 
the island, together with the names of his ships and the 
date of discovery. 

Unhappily this immortal island retains the name which 
Cook lightly bestowed upon it, instead of the name given 
it by the illustrious Dane. It is now, however, more fre¬ 
quently known as Wingham Island. The settlement of 
Kayak is upon it. The southern extremity of the larger 
island retains the name St. Elias for the splendid headland 
that plunges boldly and challengingly out into the sea. It 
is a magnificent sight in a storm, when sea-birds are shriek¬ 
ing over it and a powerful surf is breaking upon its base. 
At all times it is a striking landmark. 

I have been to Kayak four times. Landings have always 
been made by passengers in dories or in tiny launches 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


289 


which come out from the settlement, and which bob up 
and down like corks. 

It requires a cool head to descend a rope-ladder twenty 
or thirty feet from the deck to a dory that rolls away 
from the ship with every wave and which may only be 
entered as it rolls back. There is art in the little kick 
which one must give each rung against the side of the 
ship to steady the ladder. At the last comes an awful 
moment when a woman must hang alone on the last sway¬ 
ing rung and await the return of the dory. If the sea is 
rough, the ship will probably roll away from the boat. 
When the sailors, therefore, sing out, “Now! Jump!” 
she must close her eyes, put her trust in heaven and fore¬ 
ordination, and jump. 

If she chances to jump just at the right moment; if one 
sailor catches her just right and another catches him just 
right, she will know by the cheer that arises from hurricane 
and texas that all is well and she may open her eyes. Under 
other conditions, other situations arise; but let no woman 
be deterred by the possibility of the latter from descend¬ 
ing a rope-ladder when she has an opportunity. The hair- 
crinkling moments in an ordinary life are few enough, 
heaven knows. 

There are several business houses and dwellings at 
Kayak; and an Indian village. The Indian graveyard is 
very interesting. Tiny houses are built over the graves 
and surrounded by picket fences. Both are painted white. 
Through the windows may be seen some of the belongings 
of the dead. In dishes are different kinds of food and 
drink, that the deceased may not suffer of hunger or 
thirst in the bourne to which he may have journeyed. 
There are implements and weapons for the men; unfinished 
baskets for the women, with the long strands of warp and 
woof left ready for the idle hand ; for the children, beads 
and rattles made of bear claws and shells. The houses 
are on posts a few feet above the graves. 


240 


ALASKA: TIIE GREAT COUNTRY 


For a number of years Kayak was the base of opera¬ 
tion for oil companies. In 1898 the Alaska Development 
Company staked the country, but later leased their lands 
to the Alaska Oil and Coal Company — commonly known 
as the “ English ” company — for a long term of years, 
with the privilege of taking up the lease in 1906. This 
company spent millions of dollars and drilled several 
wells. 

The Alaska Petroleum and Coal Company — known as 
the Lippy Company — put down two holes, one seventeen 
hundred feet deep. The cost of drilling is about five 
thousand dollars a hole of two thousand feet; the rig, 
laid down, six thousand five hundred dollars. 

These wells are situated at Katalla, sixteen miles from 
Kayak, at the mouth of the Copper River. The oil lands 
extend from the coast to the Malaspina and Behring 
glaciers. 

Since the recent upspringing of a new town at Katalla, 
the centre of trade has been transferred from Kayak to 
this point. Katalla was founded in 1904 by the Alaska 
Petroleum and Coal Company; but not until the actual 
commencement of work on the Bruner Railway Com¬ 
pany’s road, in 1907, from Katalla into the heart of the 
coal and oil fields, did the place rise to the importance of 
a northern town. 

It has attained a wide fame within a few months on 
account of the remarkable discoveries of high-grade 
petroleum and coal in the vicinity. 

For many years these two products of Alaska were con¬ 
sidered of inferior quality; but it has recently been dis¬ 
covered that they rival the finest of Pennsylvania. 

The town has grown as only a new Alaskan, or Puget 
Sound, town can grow. At night, perhaps, there will be 
a dozen shacks and as many tents on a town site ; the next 
morning a steamer will anchor in the bay bearing govern- 


ALASKA: TITE GREAT COUNTRY 


241 


ment offices, stores, hotels, saloons, dance-halls, banks, 
offices for several large companies, electric light plants, 
gas works, telephones — and before another day dawns, 
business is in full swing. 

For fifteen miles along the Comptroller Bay water front 
oil wells may be seen, some of the largest oil seepages 
existing close to the shore. The coal and oil lands of 
this vicinity, however, are about a hundred miles in 
length and from twenty to thirty in width. 

During the fall and early winter of 1907, Katalla suf¬ 
fered a serious menace to its prosperity, owing to its total 
lack of a harbor. 

The bay is but a mere indentation, and an open road¬ 
stead sends its surf to curl upon the unprotected beach. 
The storms in winter are ceaseless and terrific. Steamers 
cannot land and anchors will not hold. 

As Nome, similarly situated, is cut off from the world 
for several months by ice, so is Katalla cut off by storms. 

Steamer after steamer sails into the roadstead, rolls and 
tosses in the trough of the sea, lingers regretfully, and 
sails away, without landing even a passenger, or mail. 

In October, 1907, one whole banking outfit, including 
everything necessary for the opening of a bank, save the 
cashier, — who was already there, — and the building, — 
which was waiting, —was taken up on a steamer. Not 
being able to lighter it ashore, the steamer carried the 
bank to Cook Inlet. 

Upon its return, conditions again made it impossible to 
enter the bay, and the bank was carried back to Seattle. * 
When the steamer again went north, the bank went, too ; 
when the steamer returned, the bank returned. 

In the meantime, other events were shaping themselves 
in such wise as to render the situation extremely 
interesting. 

A few miles northwest of Katalla, the town of Cordova 

r 


242 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


was established three years ago, with the terminus of the 
Copper River Railway located there. Mr. M. J. Heney, 
who had built the White Pass and Yukon Railway, 
received the contract for the work. The building of 
wharves in the excellent harbor and the laying out of a 
town site capable of accommodating twenty thousand 
people — and one that might have pleased even the fas¬ 
tidious Shelikoff—was energetically begun. 

Early in 190T the Copper River Railway sold its in¬ 
terests to the Northwestern and Copper River Valley 
Railway, promoted by John Rosene, and financed by the 
Guggenheims. It was semi-officially announced that the 
new company would tear up the Cordova tracks and that 
Katalla would be the terminus of the consolidated line. 
The announcement precipitated the “ boom ” at Katalla. 

Mr. Heney retired from the new company and spent 
the summer voyaging down the Yukon. 

Immediately upon his return to Seattle in September, 
he journeyed to New York. In a few days, newspapers 
devoted columns to the sale of the Rosene interests in 
the railway, also a large fleet of first-class steamers, and 
wharves, to the Copper River and Northwestern Railway 
Company. 

The contract for the immediate building of the road 
had been secured by Mr. Heney, who had returned to his 
original surveys. The terminus at once travelled back to 
Cordova ; and the itinerant bank may yet thank its guid¬ 
ing star which prevented it from getting itself landed at 
Katalla. 

Important “ strikes ” are made constantly in the Tanana 
country, in the Sushitna, and in the Koyukuk, where pay 
is found surpassing the best of the Klondike. 

The trail from Valdez to Fairbanks may yet be as 
thickly strewn with eager-eyed stampeders as were the 
Dyea and Skagway trails a decade ago. Never again, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


248 


however, in any part of Alaska, can the awful conditions 
of that time prevail. Steamer, rail, and stage transpor¬ 
tation have made travelling in the North luxurious, com¬ 
pared to the horrors endured in the old days. 

The Guggenheims have been compelled to carry on a 
fantastic fight for right of way for the Copper River and 
Northwestern Railroad. In the summer of 1907, they 
attempted to lay track at Katalla over the disputed 
Bruner right of way. The Bruner Company had con¬ 
structed an immense “ go-devil ” of railway rails, which, 
operated by powerful machinery, could be swung back 
and forth over the disputed point. It was operated by 
armed men behind fortifications. 

The Bruner concern was known as the Alaska-Pacific 
Transportation and Terminal Company, financed by Pitts¬ 
burg capital, and proposed building a road to the coal 
regions, thence to the Copper River. They sought right 
of way by condemnation proceedings. 

The town site of Katalla is owned by the Alaska 
Petroleum and Coal Company, which had deeded a right 
of way to the Guggenheims; also, a large tract of land 
for smelter purposes. At one point it was necessary for 
the latter to cross the right of way of the Bruner road. 

The trouble began in May, when the Bruner workmen 
dynamited a pile-driver and trestle belonging to the 
Guggenheims, who had then approached within one hun¬ 
dred feet of the Bruner right of way. 

On July 8 a party of Guggenheim laborers, under the 
protection of a fire from detachments of armed men, suc¬ 
ceeded in laying track over the disputed right of way. 

Tony de Pascal daringly led the construction party 
and received the reward of a thousand dollars offered by 
the Guggenheims to the man who would successfully lead 
the attacking forces. Soon afterward, he was shot dead 
by one of his own men who mistook him for a member 


244 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


of the opposing force. Ten other men were seriously 
injured by bullets from the Bruner block-houses. 

In the autumn of the same year a party of men sur¬ 
veying for the Reynolds Home Railway, from Valdez to 
the Yukon, met armed resistance in Keystone Canyon 
from a force of men holding right of way for the Gug- 
genheims. A battle occurred in which one man was 
killed and three seriously wounded. 

The wildest excitement prevailed in fiery Valdez, and 
probably only the proximity of a United States military 
post prevented the lynching of the men who did the 
killing. 

Ever since the advent of the Russians, Copper River 
has been considered one of the bonanzas of Alaska. It 
was discovered in 1T83 by Nagaief, a member of Potap 
Zaikoff’s party. He ascended it for a short distance and 
traded with the natives, who called the river Atnah. 
Rufus Serrebrennikof and his men attempted an explora¬ 
tion, but were killed. General Miles, under Abercrombie, 
attempted to ascend the river in 1884, with the in¬ 
tention of coming out by the Chilkaht country; but the 
expedition was a failure. In the following year Lieu¬ 
tenant H. T. Allen successfully ascended the river, 
crossed the divide to the Tanana, sailed down that 
stream to the Yukon, explored the fcoyukuk, and then 
proceeded down the Yukon to St. Michael and returned 
to San Francisco by ocean. 

His description of Miles Glacier was the first to be 
printed. This glacier fronts for a distance of six miles 
in splendid palisades on Copper River. This and Childs 
Glacier afford the chief obstacles to navigation on this 
river, and Mr. A. H. Brooks reports their rapid recession. 

The river is regarded as exceedingly dangerous for 
steamers, but may, with caution, be navigated with 
small boats. Between the mouth of the Chitina and 
the head of the broad delta of the Copper River, is the 





Copyright by E. A. llegg, Juneau Courtesy oi Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

Lake Bennett in 1898 


















ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


245 


only canyon. It is the famous Wood Canyon, several 
miles in length and in many places only forty yards 
wide, with the water roaring, through perpendicular 
stone walls. The Tiekel, Tasnuna, and other streams 
tributary to this part of the Copper also flow through 
narrow valleys with precipitous slopes. 

The Copper River has its source in the mountains east 
of its great plateau, whose eastern margin it traverses, 
and then, passing through the Chugach Mountains, de¬ 
bouches across a wide delta into the North Pacific Ocean 
between Katalla and Cordova. It rises close to Mount 
Wrangell, flows northward for forty miles, south and 
southwest for fifty more, when the Chitina joins it from 
the east and swells its flood for the remaining one hun¬ 
dred and fifty miles to the coast. 

The Copper is a silt-laden, turbulent stream from its 
source to the sea. Its average fall is about twelve feet 
to the mile. From the Chitina to’ its mouth, it is steep¬ 
sided and rock-bound; for its entire length, it is weird 
and impressive. 

By land, the distance from Katalla to Cordova is in¬ 
significant. It is a distance, however, that cannot as 
yet be traversed, on account of the delta and other im¬ 
passable topographic features, which only a railroad can 
overcome. The distance by water is about one hundred 
and fifty miles. 

In the entrance to Cordova Bay is Hawkins Island, 
and to the southwest of this island lies Hinchingbroke 
Island, whose southern extremity, at the entrance to 
Prince William Sound, was named Cape Hinchingbroke 
by Cook in 1778. At a point named Snug Corner Bay 
Cook keeled and mended his ships. 

This peerless sound itself — brilliantly blue, greenly 
islanded, and set round with snow peaks and glaciers, 
including among the latter the most beautiful one of 


246 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Alaska, if not the most beautiful of the world, the 
Columbia — was known as Chugach Gulf — a name to 
which I hope it may some day return, — until Cook 
renamed it. 

A boat sent out by Cook was pursued by natives in 
canoes. They seemed afraid to approach the ship; but 
at a distance sang, stood up in the canoes, extending their 
arms and holding out white garments of peace. One man 
stood up, entirely nude, with his arms stretched out like 
a cross, motionless, for a quarter of an hour. 

The following night a few natives came out in the 
skin-boats of the Eskimos. These boats are still used 
from this point westward and northward to Nome and 
up the Yukon as far as the Eskimos have settlements. 
They are of three kinds. One is a large, open, flat- 
bottomed boat. It is made of a wooden frame, covered 
with walrus skin or sealskin, held in place by thongs of 
the former. This is called an oomiak by the Innuits or 
Eskimos, and a bidarra by the Russians. It is used by 
women, or by large parties of men. 

A boat for one man is made in the same fashion, but 
covered completely over, with the exception of one hole 
in which the occupant sits, and around which is. an up¬ 
right rim. When at sea he wears a walrus-gut coat, 
completely waterproof, which he ties around the outside 
of the rim. The coat is securely tied around the wrists, 
and the hood is drawn tightly around the face; so that 
no water can possibly enter the boat in the most severe 
storm. This boat is called a bidarka. 

The third, called a kayak, differs from the bidarka 
only in being longer and having two or three holes. 

The walrus-gut coats are called kamelinkas or kame- 
laykas. They may be purchased in curio stores, and at 
Seldovia and other places on Cook Inlet. They are now 
gayly decorated with bits of colored wool and range in 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 247 

price from ten to twenty dollars, according to the amount 
of work upon them. 

There is a difference of opinion regarding the names 
of the boats. Dali claims that the one-holed boat was 
called a kayak by the natives, and by the Russians a 
bidarka; and that the others were simply known as two 
or three holed bidarkas. The other opinion, which I 
have given, is that of people living in the vicinity at 
present. 

Each of the men who came out in the bidarkas to visit 
Cook had a stick about three feet long, the end of which 
was decorated with large tufts of feathers. Behring’s 
men were received in precisely the same manner at the 
Shumagin Islands, far to westward, in 1741; their sticks, 
according to Muller, being decorated with hawks’ wings. 

These natives were found to be thievish and treacher¬ 
ous, attempting to capture a boat under the ship’s very 
guns and in the face of a hundred men. 

Cook then sailed southward and discovered the largest 
island in the sound, the Sukluk of the natives, which he 
named Montagu. 

Nutchek, or Port Etches, as it was named by Portlock, 
is just inside the entrance to the sound on the western 
shore of the island that is now known as Hinchingbroke, 
but which was formerly called Nutchek. 

Here Baranoff, several years later, built the ships that 
bore his first expedition to Sitka. The Russian trading 
post was called the Redoubt Constantine and Elena. It 
was a strong, stockaded fort with two bastions. 

There is a salmon cannery at Nutchek, and the furs of 
the Copper River country were brought here for many 
years for barter. 

Orca is situated about three miles north of Cordova, in 
Cordova Bay. There is a large salmon cannery at Orca ; 
and the number of sea-birds to be seen in this small bay, 


248 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


filling the air in snowy clouds and covering the pre¬ 
cipitous cliffs facing the wharf, is surpassed in only one 
place on the Alaskan coast — Karluk Bay. 

For several years before the founding of Valdez, Orca 
was used as a port by the argonauts who crossed by way 
of Valdez Pass to the Copper River mining regions, and 
by way of the Tanana River to the Yukon. 

Prince William Sound is one of the most nobly beau¬ 
tiful bodies of water in Alaska. Its wide blue water- 
sweeps, its many mountainous, wooded, and snow-peaked 
islands, the magnificent glaciers which palisade its ice- 
inlets, and the chain of lofty, snowy mountains that 
float mistily, like linked pearls, around it through the 
amethystine clouds, give it a poetic and austere beauty 
of its own. Every slow turn of the prow brings forth 
some new delight to the eye. Never does one beautiful 
snow-dome fade lingeringly from the horizon, ere another 
pushes into the exquisitely colored atmosphere, in a chaste 
beauty that fairly thrills the heart of the beholder. 

The sound, or gulf, extends winding blue arms in every 
direction, — into the mainland and into the many islands. 
It covers an extent of more than twenty-five hundred 
square miles. The entrance is about fifty miles wide, but is 
sheltered by countless islands. The largest and richest are 
Montagu, Hinchingbroke, La Touche, Knight’s, and Haw¬ 
kins. There are many excellent harbors on the shores of 
the gulf and on the islands, and the Russians built several 
ships here. In Chalmers Bay Vancouver discovered a 
remarkable point, which bore stumps of trees cut with an 
axe, but far below low-water mark at the time of his dis¬ 
covery. He named it Sinking Point. 

There is a portage from the head of the gulf to Cook Inlet, 
which, the earliest Russians learned, had long been used by 
the natives, who are of the Innuit, or Eskimo, tribe, simi¬ 
lar to those of the Inlet, and are called Chugaches. The 





























































White Horse, Yukon Territory 








ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


249 


northern shore of Kenai and the western coast of the 
Inlet are occupied by Indians of the Athabascan stock. 

Cook found the natives of the gulf of medium size, 
with square chests and large heads. The complexion of 
the children and some of the younger women was white; 
many of the latter having agreeable features and pleasing 
appearance. They were vivacious, good-natured, and of 
engaging frankness. 

These people, of all ages and both sexes, wore a close 
robe reaching to the ankles — sometimes only to the 
knees — made of the skins of sea-otter, seal, gray fox, rac¬ 
coon, and pine-marten. These garments were worn with 
the fur outside. Now and then one was seen made of the 
down of sea-birds, which had been glued to some other 
substance. The seams were ornamented with thongs, or 
tassels, of the same skins. 

In rain they wore kamelinkas over the fur robes. 
Cook’s description of a kamelinka as resembling a 44 gold¬ 
beater’s leaf ” is a very good one. 

His understanding of the custom of wearing the labret, 
however, differs from that of other early navigators. The 
incision in the lip, he states, was made even in the chil¬ 
dren at the breast; while La Perouse and others were 
of the impression that it was not made until a girl had 
arrived at a marriageable age. 

It appears that the incision in time assumes the shape 
of real lips, through which the tongue may be thrust. 

One of Cook’s seamen, seeing for the first time a 
woman having the incision from which the labret had 
been removed, fell into a panic of horror and ran to his 
companions, crying that he 44 had seen a man with two 
mouths,”—evidently mistaking the woman for a man. 
Cook reported that both sexes wore the labret; but this 
was doubtless an error. When they are clad in the fur 


250 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


garments, which are called parkas, it is difficult to distin¬ 
guish one sex from the other among the younger people. 

I had a rather amusing experience myself at the small 
native settlement of Anvik on the Yukon. It was mid¬ 
night, but broad daylight, as we were in the Arctic Circle. 
The natives were all clad in parkas. Two sitting side by 
side resembled each other closely. After buying some of 
their curios, I asked one, indicating the other, “ Is she 
your sister?” 

To my confusion, my question was received with a 
loud burst of laughter, in which a dozen natives, sitting 
around them, hoarsely and hilariously joined. 

They poked the unfortunate object of my curiosity in 
the ribs, pointed at him derisively, and kept crying — 
“She! She!” until at last the poor young fellow, not 
more embarrassed than myself, sprang to his feet and ran 
away, with laughter and cries of “She! She!” following 
him. 

I have frequently recalled the scene, and feared that 
the innocent dark-eyed and sweet-smiling youth may have 
retained the name which was so mirthfully bestowed upon 
him that summer night. 

But since the mistake in sex may be so easily made, I 
am inclined to the belief that Cook and his men were mis¬ 
led in this particular. 

A most remarkable difference of opinion existed be¬ 
tween Cook and other early explorers as to the cleanliness 
of the natives. He found their method of eating decent 
and cleanly, their persons neat, without grease or dirt, 
and their wooden dishes in excellent order. 

The white-headed eagle was found here, as well as the 
shag, the great kingfisher of brilliant coloring, the hum¬ 
ming-bird, water-fowl, grouse, snipe, and plover. Many 
other species of water and land fowl have been added to 
these. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


251 


The flora of the islands is brilliant, varied, and luxuriant. 

In 1786 John Meares — who is dear to my heart be¬ 
cause of his confidence in Juan de Fuca — came to disas¬ 
ter in the Chugach Gulf. Overtaken by winter, he first 
tried the anchorage at Snug Corner Cove, in his ship, the 
Nootka , but later moved to a more sheltered nook closer 
to the mainland, in the vicinity of the present native vil¬ 
lage of Tatitlik. 

The ill-provisioned vessel was covered for the winter; 
spruce beer was brewed, but the men preferred the liq¬ 
uors, which were freely served, and, fresh fish being 
scarce, scurvy became epidemic. The surgeon was the 
first to die; but he was followed by many others. 

At first, graves were dug under the snow; but soon 
the survivors were too few and too exhausted for this 
last service to their mates. The dead were then dropped 
in fissures of the ice which surrounded their ship. 

At last, when the lowest depth of despair had been 
reached, Captains Portlock and Dixon arrived and fur¬ 
nished relief and assistance. 

In 1787-1788 the Chugach Gulf presented a strange 
appearance to the natives, not yet familiar with the pres¬ 
ence of ships. Englishmen under different flags, Rus¬ 
sians and Spaniards, were sailing to all parts of the gulf, 
taking possession in the names of different nations of all 
the harbors and islands. 

In Voskressenski Harbor — now known as Resurrec¬ 
tion Bay, where the new railroad town of Seward is situ¬ 
ated — the first ship ever built in Alaska was launched by 
Baranoff, in 1794. It was christened the Phoenix, and 
was followed by many others. 

Preparations for ship-building were begun in the win¬ 
ter of 1791. Suitable buildings, storehouses, and quarters 
for the men were erected. There were no large saws, 
and planks were hewn out of whole logs. The iron re- 


252 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


quired was collected from wrecks in all parts of the coh 
onies; steel for axes was procured in the same way. 
Having no tar, Baranoff used a mixture of spruce gum 
and oil. 

Provisions were scarce, and no time was allowed for 
hunting or fishing. So severe were the hardships endured 
that no one but Baranoff could have kept up his courage 
and that of his suffering men, and cheered them on to 
final success. 

The Phoenix — which was probably named for an Eng¬ 
lish ship which had visited the Chugach Gulf in 1792 — 
was built of spruce timber, and was seventy-three feet 
long. It was provided with two decks and three masts. 
The calking above the water-line was of moss. The sails 
were composed of fragments of canvas gathered from all 
parts of the colonies. 

On her first voyage to Kadiak, the Phoenix encountered 
a storm which brought disaster to her frail rigging; and 
instead of sailing proudly into harbor, as Baranoff had 
hoped, she was ignominiously towed in. 

But she was the first vessel built in the colonies to 
enter that harbor in any fashion, and the Russian joy was 
great. The event was celebrated by solemn Mass, fol¬ 
lowed by high eating and higher drinking. 

The Phoenix was refitted and rerigged and sent out on 
her triumphal voyage to Okhotsk. There she arrived 
safely and proudly. She was received with volleys of 
artillery, the ringing of bells, the celebration of Mass, and 
great and joyous feasting. 

A cabin and deck houses were added, the vessel was 
painted, and from that time until her loss in the Alaskan 
Gulf, the Phoenix regularly plied the waters of Behring 
Sea and the North Pacific Ocean between Okhotsk and 
the Russian colonies in America. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Ellamar is a small town on Virgin Bay, Prince Will¬ 
iam Sound, at the entrance to Puerto de Valdes, or Val¬ 
dez Narrows. It is very prettily situated on a gently 
rising hill. 

It has a population of five or six hundred, and is the 
home of the Ellamar Mining Company. Here are the 
headquarters of a group of copper properties known as 
the Gladdaugh mines. 

One of the mines extends under the sea, whose waves 
wash the buildings. It has been a large and regular 
shipper for several years. In 1903 forty thousand tons 
of ore were shipped to the Tacoma smelter, and shipments 
have steadily increased with every year since. 

The mine is practically a solid mass of iron and copper 
pyrites. It has a width of more than one hundred and 
twenty-five feet where exposed, and extends along the strike 
for a known distance of more than three hundred feet. 

The vast quantities of gold found in Alaska have, up to 
the present time, kept the other rich mineral products of 
the country in the background. Copper is, at last, com¬ 
ing into her own. The year of 1907 brought forth tre¬ 
mendous developments in copper properties. The Gug- 
genheim-Morgan-Rockefeller syndicate has kept experts 
in every known, or suspected, copper district of the North 
during the last two years. Cordova, the sea terminus of 
the new railroad, is in the very heart of one of the richest 
copper districts. The holdings of this syndicate are al- 

253 


254 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


ready immense and cover every district. The railroad 
will run to the Yukon, with branches extending into 
every rich region. 

Other heavily financed companies are preparing to rival 
the Guggenheims, and individual miners will work their 
claims this year. Experts predict that within a decade 
Alaska will become one of the greatest copper-producing 
countries of the world. In the Copper River country 
alone, north of Valdez, there is more copper, according 
to expert reports, than Montana or Michigan ever has 
produced, or ever will produce. 

The Ketchikan district is also remarkably rich. At 
Niblack Anchorage, on Prince of Wales Island, the ore 
carries five per cent of copper, and the mines are most 
favorably located on tide-water. 

Native copper, associated with gold, has been found on 
Turnagain Arm, in the country tributary to the Alaska 
Central Railway. 

A half interest in the Bonanza, a copper mine on the 
western side of La Touche Island, Prince William Sound, 
was sold last year for more than a million dollars. This 
mine is not fully developed, but is considered one of the 
best in Alaska. It has an elevation of two hundred feet. 
Several tunnels have been driven, and the ore taken out 
runs high in copper, gold, and silver. One shipment of 
one thousand two hundred and thirty-five pounds gave 
net returns of fifty dollars to the ton, after deducting 
freight to Tacoma, smelting, refining, and an allowance 
of ninety-five per cent for the silver valuation. A sample 
taken along one tunnel for sixty feet gave an assay of 
over nine per cent copper, with one and a quarter ounces 
of silver. 

The Bonanza was purchased in 1900 by Messrs. Beat- 
son and Robertson for seventy-two thousand dollars. 
There is a good wharf and a tramway line to the mine. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


255 


Adjoining the Bonanza on the north is a group of 
eleven claims owned by Messrs. Esterly, Meenach, and 
Keyes, which are in course of development. There are 
many other rich claims on this island, on Knight’s, and 
on others in the sound. Timber is abundant, the water 
power is excellent, and ore is easily shipped. 

There is an Indian village two or three miles from 
Ellamar. It is the village of Tatitlik, the only one now 
remaining on the sound, so rapidly are the natives vanish¬ 
ing under the evil influence of civilization. Ten years ago 
there were nine hundred natives in the various villages on 
the shores of the sound; while now there are not more 
than two hundred, at the most generous calculation. 

White men prospecting and fishing in the vicinity of 
the village supply them with liquor. When a sufficient 
quantity can be purchased, the entire village, men and 
women, indulges in a prolonged and horrible debauch 
which frequently lasts for several weeks. 

The death rate at Tatitlik is very heavy,— more than 
a hundred natives having died during 1907. 

Passengers have time to visit this village while the 
steamer loads ore at Ellamar. 

The loading of ore, by the way, is a new experience. 
A steamer on which I was travelling once landed at Ella¬ 
mar during the night. 

We were rudely awakened from our dreams by a sound 
which Lieutenant Whidbey would have called “most stu¬ 
pendously dreadful.” We thought that the whole bottom 
of the ship must have been knocked off by striking a reef, 
and we reached the floor simultaneously. 

I have no notion how my own eyes looked, but my 
friend’s eyes were as large and expressive as bread-and- 
butter plates. 

“We are going down! ” she exclaimed, with tragic 
brevity. 


256 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


At that instant the dreadful sound was repeated. We 
were convinced that the ship was being pounded to pieces 
under us upon rocks. Without speech we began dressing 
with that haste that makes fingers become thumbs. 

But suddenly a tap came upon our door, and the watch¬ 
man’s voice spoke outside. 

“Ladies, we are at Ellamar.” 

“ At Ellamar! ” 

“Yes. You asked to be called if it wasn’t midnight 
when we landed.” 

“ But what is that awful noise, watchman ? ” 

“ Oh, we’re loading ore,” he answered cheerfully, and 
walked away. 

All that night and part of the next day tons upon tons 
of ore thundered into the hold. We could not sleep, we 
could not talk ; we could only think; and the things we 
thought shall never be told, nor shall wild horses drag 
them from us. 

We dressed, in desperation, and went up to “the 
store ” ; sat upon high stools, ate stale peppermint candy, 
and listened to “ Uncle Josh ” telling his parrot story 
through the phonograph. 

Somehow, between the ship and the store, we got our¬ 
selves through the night and the early morning hours. 
After breakfast we found the green and flowery slopes 
back of the town charming; and a walk of three miles 
along the shore to the Indian village made us forget the 
ore for a few hours. But to this day, when I read that 
an Alaskan ship has brought down hundreds of tons of 
ore to the Taconla smelter, my heart goes out silently to 
the passengers who were on that ship when the ore was 
loaded. 








CHAPTER XXIII 


When seen under favorable conditions, the Columbia 
Glacier is the most beautiful thing in Alaska. I have 
visited it twice; once at sunset, and again on an all-day 
excursion from Valdez. 

The point on the western side of the entrance to 
Puerto de Valdes, as it was named by Fidalgo, was named 
Point Fremantle by Vancouver. Just west of this point 
and three miles north of the Conde, or Glacier, Island is 
the nearly square bay upon which the glacier fronts. 

Entering this bay from the Puerto de Valdes, one is 
instantly conscious, of the presence of something wonder¬ 
ful and mysterious. Long before it can be seen, this pres¬ 
ence is felt, like that of a living thing. Quick, vibrant, 
thrilling, and inexpressibly sweet, its breath sweeps out to 
salute the voyager and lure him on; and with every sense 
alert, he follows, but with no conception of what he is to 
behold. 

One may have seen glaciers upon glaciers, yet not be 
prepared for the splendor and the magnificence of the one 
that palisades the northern end of this bay. 

The Fremantle Glacier was first seen by Lieutenant 
Whidbey, to whose cold and unappreciative eyes so many 
of the most precious things of Alaska were first revealed. 
He simply described it as “ a solid body of compact, ele¬ 
vated ice . . . bounded at no great distance by a con¬ 
tinuation of the high ridge of snowy mountains.” 

He heard “thunder-like” noises, and found that they 


258 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


had been produced by the breaking off and headlong 
plunging into the sea of great bodies of ice. 

In such wise was one of the most marvellous things of 
the world first seen and described. 

The glacier has a frontage of about four miles, and its 
glittering palisades tower upward to a height of from 
three to four hundred feet. There is a small island, named 
Heather, in the bay. Poor Whidbey felt the earth shake 
at a distance of three miles from the falling ice. 

In ordinary light, the front of the glacier is beautifully 
blue. It is a blue that is never seen in anything save a gla¬ 
cier or a floating iceberg — a pale, pale blue that seems to 
flash out fire with every movement. At sunset, its beauty 
holds one spellbound. It sweeps down magnificently 
from the snow peaks which form its fit setting and pushes 
out into the sea in a solid wall of spired and pinnacled 
opal which, ever and anon breaking off, flings over it 
clouds of color which dazzle the eyes. At times there is 
a display of prismatic colors. Across the front grow, 
fade and grow again, the most beautiful rainbow shadings. 
They come and go swiftly and noiselessly, affecting one 
somewhat like Northern Lights — so still, so brilliant, so 
mysterious. 

There was silence upon our ship as it throbbed in, slowly 
and cautiously, among the floating icebergs — some of 
which were of palest green, others of that pale blue I have 
mentioned, and still others of an enchanting rose color. 
Even the woman who had, during the whole voyage, taken 
the finest edge off our enjoyment of every mountain by 
drawling out, “ Oh — how — pretty! George, will you 
just come here and look at this pretty mountain ? It 
looks good enough to eat ” — even this woman was speech¬ 
less now, for which blessing we gave thanks to God, of 
which we were not even conscious at the time. 

It was still fired as brilliantly upon our departure as 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


259 


upon our entrance into its presence. The June sunset in 
Alaska draws itself out to midnight; and ever since, I 
have been tormented with the longing to lie before that 
glacier one whole June night; to hear its falling columns 
thunder off the hours, and to watch the changing colors 
play upon its brilliant front. 

Even in the middle of the day a peculiarly soft and 
rich rose color flashes from it and over it. One who has 
seen the first snow sifting upon a late rose of the garden 
may guess what a delicate, enchanting rose color it is. 

There are many fine glaciers barricading the inlets and 
bays in this vicinity; in Port Nell Juan, Applegate Arm, 
Port Wells, Passage Canal — which leads to the portage 
to Cook Inlet — and Unakwik Bay; but they are scarcely 
to be mentioned in the same breath with the Fremantle. 
The latter has been known as the Columbia since the Har- 
riman expedition in 1899. It has had no rival since the 
destruction of the Muir. 

Either the disagreeable features of the Alaskan climate 
have been grossly exaggerated, or I have been exceedingly 
fortunate in the three voyages I have made along the 
coast to Unalaska, and down the Yukon to Nome. On 
one voyage I travelled continuously for a month by water, 
experiencing only three rainy days and three cloudy ones. 
All the other days were clear and golden, with a blue sky, 
a sparkling sea, and air that was sweet with sunshine, 
flowers, and snow. I have never been in Alaska in winter, 
but I have for three years carefully compared the weather 
reports of different sections of that country with those of 
other cold countries ; and no intelligent, thoughtful per¬ 
son can do this without arriving at conclusions decidedly 
favorable to Alaska. 

Were Alaska possessed of the same degree of civiliza¬ 
tion that is enjoyed by St. Petersburg, Chicago, St. Paul, 


260 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Minneapolis, and New York, we would hear no more of 
the rigors of the Alaskan climate than we hear of those 
of the cities mentioned. It is more agreeable than the 
climate of Montana, Nebraska, or the Dakotas. 

With large cities, rich and gay cities ; prosperous inhabit¬ 
ants clad in costly furs ; luxurious homes, well warmed 
and brilliantly lighted ; railway trains, sleighs, and auto¬ 
mobiles for transportation ; splendid theatres, libraries, 
art galleries, — with these and the hundreds of advantages 
enjoyed by the people of other cold countries, Alaska’s 
winters would hold no terrors. 

It is the present loneliness of the winter that appalls. 
The awful spaces and silences ; the limitless snow plains ; 
the endless chains of snow mountains ; the silent, frozen 
rivers; the ice-stayed cataracts; the bitter, moaning 
sea ; the hastily built homes, lacking luxuries, sometimes 
even comforts; the poverty of congenial companionship ; 
the dearth of intelligent amusements—■ these be the con¬ 
ditions that make all but the stoutest hearts pause. 

But the stout heart, the heart that loves Alaska! Pity 
him not, though he spend all the winters of his life in its 
snow-bound fastnesses. He is not for pity. Joys are his 
of which those that pity him know not. 

According to a report prepared by Lieutenant-Colonel 
Glassford, of the United States Signal Corps Service, on 
February 5, 1906, the temperature was twenty-six degrees 
above zero in Grand Junction, Colorado, and in Salchia, 
Alaska; twenty-two degrees in Flagstaff, Arizona, Mem¬ 
phis, Salt Lake, Spokane, and Summit, Alaska; fourteen 
degrees in Cairo, Illinois, Cincinnati, Little Rock, Pitts¬ 
burgh, and Della, Alaska ; twelve degrees in Santa Fe 
and in Fort Egbert and Eagle, on the Yukon ; ten de¬ 
grees in Helena, Buffalo, and Workman’s, Alaska; zero 
in Denver, Dodge, Kansas, and Fairbanks and Chena, 
Alaska; five degrees below in Dubuque, Omaha, and 





























' 




White Horse Rapids 



ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


261 


Copper Centre and Matanuska, Alaska; ten degrees be¬ 
low in Huron, Michigan, and in Gokona, Alaska ; fifteen 
degrees below in Bismarck, St. Paul, and in Tanana 
Crossing, Alaska; twenty degrees below in Fort Brady, 
Michigan, and in Ketchumstock, Alaska. 

Statistics giving the absolute mean minimum tempera¬ 
ture in the capital cities of the United States prove that 
out of the forty-seven cities, thirty-one were as cold or 
colder than Sitka, and four were colder than Valdez. 

On the southern coast of Alaska there are few points 
where zero is recorded, the average winter weather at Ju¬ 
neau, Sitka, Valdez, and Seward being milder than in Wash¬ 
ington, D.C. In the interior, the weather is much colder, 
but it is the dry, light cold. At Fairbanks, it is true 
that the thermometer has registered sixty degrees below 
zero; but it has done the same in the Dakotas and other 
states, and is unusual. Severely cold weather occurs in 
Alaska as rarely as in other cold countries, and remains 
but a few days. 

Alaska has unfortunately had the reputation of having 
an unendurable climate thrust upon her, first by such 
chill-blooded navigators as Whjdbey and Vancouver ; and 
later, by the gold seekers who rushed, frenziedly, into 
the unsettled wastes, with no preparation for the intense 
cold which at times prevails. 

Almost every winter in Wyoming, Nebraska, Montana, 
and the Dakotas, children of the prairies and their teachers 
freeze to death going to or from school, and it is accepted as 
a matter of course. In Alaska, where hundreds of men 
traverse hundreds of miles by dog sleds and snow-shoes, 
with none of the comforts of more civilized countries and 
with road houses few and far, if two or three in a winter 
freeze to death, the tragedy is wired to all parts of the 
world as another mute testimony to the “ tremendously 
horrible ” climate of Alaska. 


262 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The intense heat, of which dozens of people perish 
every summer in New York and other eastern states is 
unknown in Alaska. Cyclones and cloud-bursts are un¬ 
chronicled. Fatal epidemics of disease among white 
people have never yet occurred. 

As for the summer climate of Alaska, both along the 
coast and in the interior, it is possessed of a charm and 
fascination which cannot be described in words. 

“You can just taste the Alaska climate,” said an old 
Klondiker, on a White Pass and Yukon train. We were 
standing between cars, clinging to the brakes — sooty- 
eyed, worn-out with joy as we neared White Horse, but 
standing and looking still, unwilling to lose one moment 
of that beautiful trip. 

“It tastes different every hundred miles,” he went on, 
with that beam in his eye which means love of Alaska in 
the heart. “ You begun to taste it in Grenville Channel. 
It tasted different in Skagway, and there’s a big change 
when you get to White Horse. I golly! at White Horse, 
you’ll think you never tasted anything like it; but it 
don’t hold a candle there to the way it tastes going down 
the Yukon. If you happen to get into the Ar’tic Circle, 
say, about two in the morning, you dress yourself and 
hike out on deck, an’ I darn! you can taste more’n cli¬ 
mate. You can taste the Ar’tic Circle itself! Say, can 
you guess what it tastes like ? ” 

I could not guess what the Arctic Circle tasted like, 
and frankly confessed it. 

“Well, say, weepin’ Sinew! It tastes like icicles made 
out of them durn little blue flowers you call voylets. I 
picked some out from under the snow once, an’ eat ’em. 
There was moisture froze all over ’em — so I know how 
they taste; and that’s the way the Ar’tic Circle tastes, 
with—well, maybe a little rum mixed in, the way they 
fix things up at the Butler down in Seattle. I darn! . . . 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


263 


Just you remember, when you get to the Circle, an’ say, 
straight goods, if Cyanide Bill ain’t right.” 

“Talkin’ about climate,” he resumed, as the train hesi¬ 
tated in passing the Grand Canyon, “there’s a well at 
White Horse that’s got the climate of the hull Yukon 
country in it. It’s about two blocks toward the rapids 
from White Pass Hotel. It stands on a vacant lot about 
fifty steps from the sidewalk, on your right hand goin’ 
toward the Rapids. Well, I darn ! I’ve traipsed over 
every country on this earth, an’ I never tasted such water. 
Not anywheres ! You see, it’s dug right down into solid 
ice an’ the sun just melts out a little water at a time, an’ 
everything nice in Alaska tastes in that water — ice an’ 
snow, an’ flowers an’ sun — ” 

“ Do you write poetry ? ” I asked, smiling. 

His face lightened. 

“No; but say —there’s a young fellow in White Horse 
that does. He’s wrote a whole book qf it. His name’s 
Robert Service. Say, I’d shoot up anybody that said his 
poetry wasn’t the real thing.” 

“ I’m sure it is,” said I, hastily. 

“You bet it is. You can hear the Yukon roar, an’ the 
ice break up an’ go down the river, standin’ up on end in 
chunks twenty feet high, an’ carry in’ everything with it; 
you can wade through miles an’ miles of flowers an’ gether 
your hands full of ’em an’ think there’s a woman some¬ 
where waitin’ for you to take ’em to her; you can tromp 
through tundra an’ over rocks till your feet bleed; you can 
go blind lookin’ for gold ; you can get kissed by the pretti¬ 
est girl in a Dawson dance hall, an’ then get jilted for some 
younger fellow ; you can hear glaciers grindin’ up, an’ 
avylanches tearin’ down the mountains ; you can starve to 
death an’ freeze to death ; you can strike a gold mine an’ 
go home to your fambly a millionnaire an’ have ’em like you 
again ; you can drink champagne an’ eat sour-dough ; you 


264 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


can feel the heart break up inside of you — an’ yes, I God ! 
you can go down on your knees an’ say your prayers again 
like your mother showed you how ! You can do every 
one of them damn fool things when you’re readin’ that 
Service fellow’s poetry. So that’s why I’m ready to shoot 
up anybody that says, or intimates, that his poetry ain’t 
the genuine article.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


Port Valdez — or the Puerto de Valdes, as it was 
named by Vancouver after Whidbey’s exploration — is a 
fiord twelve miles long and of a beauty that is simply en¬ 
chanting. 

On a clear day it winds like a pale blue ribbon between 
colossal mountains of snow, with glaciers streaming down 
to the water at every turn. The peaks rise, one after an¬ 
other, sheer from the water, pearl-white from summit to 
base. 

It has been my happiness and my good fortune always 
to sail this fiord on a clear day. The water has been as 
smooth as satin, with a faint silvery tinge, as of frost, 
shimmering over its blue. 

At the end, Port Valdez widens into a bay, and upon 
the bay, in the shadow of her mountains, and shaded by 
her trees, is Valdez. 

Valdez! The mere mention of the name is sufficient to 
send visions of loveliness glimmering through the memory. 
Through a soft blur of rose-lavender mist shine houses, 
glacier, log-cabin^, and the tossing green of trees ; the 
wild, white glacial torrents pouring down around the 
town ; and the pearly peaks linked upon the sky. 

Valdez was founded in 1898. During the early rush 
to the Klondike, one of the routes taken was directly 
over the glacier. In 1898 about three thousand people 
landed at the upper end of Port Valdez, followed the 
glacier, crossed over the summit of the Chugach Moun- 

265 


266 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


tains, and thence down a fork of tile Copper River. The 
route was dangerous, and attended by many hardships 
and real suffering. 

At first hundreds of tents whitened the level plain at 
the foot of the glacier ; then, one by one, cabins were 
built, stocks were brought in for trading purposes, 
saloons and dance halls sprang up in a night, — and 
Valdez was. 

In this year Captain Abercrombie, of the United States 
Army, crossed the glacier with his entire party of men 
and horses and reached the Xanana. In the following 
year, surveys were made under his direction for a military 
wagon trail over the Chugach Mountains from Valdez to 
the Tanana, and during the following three years this 
trail was constructed. 

It has proved to be of the greatest possible benefit, not 
only to the vast country tributary to Valdez, but to the 
various Yukon districts, and to Nome. After many ex¬ 
periments, it has been chosen by the government as the 
winter route for the distribution of mail to the interior of 
Alaska and to Nome. Steamers make connection with a 
regular line of stages and sleighs. There are frequent 
and comfortable road houses, and the danger of accident 
is not nearly so great as it is in travelling by railway in 
the eastern states. 

The Valdez military trail follows Lowe River and Key¬ 
stone Canyon. Through the canyon the trail is only wide 
enough for pack trains, and travel is by the frozen river. 

The Signal Corps of the Army has constructed many 
hundreds of miles of telegraph lines since the beginning 
of the present decade. Nome, the Yukon, Tanana, and 
Copper River valleys are all connected with Valdez and 
with Dawson by telegraph. Nome has outside connec¬ 
tion by wireless, and all the coast towns are in communi¬ 
cation with Seattle by cable. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 267 

The climate of Yaldez is delightful in summer. In 
winter it is ten degrees colder than at Sitka, with good 
sleighing. The annual precipitation is fifty per cent less 
than along the southeastern coast. Snow falls from No¬ 
vember to April. 

The long winter nights are not disagreeable. The 
moon and the stars are larger and more brilliant in 
Alaska than can be imagined by one who has not seen 
them, and, with the changeful colors of the Aurora playing 
upon the snow, turn the northern world into Fairyland. 

Yaldez has a population of about twenty-five hundred 
people. It is four hundred and fifty miles north of 
Sitka, and eighteen hundred miles from Seattle. It is 
said to be the most northern port in the world that is 
open to navigation the entire year. 

There are two good piers to deep water, besides one at 
the new town site, an electric light plant and telephone 
system, two newspapers, a hospital, creditable churches 
of five or six denominations, a graded school, private 
club-rooms, a library, a brewery, several hotels and res¬ 
taurants, public halls, a court-house, several merchandise 
stores carrying stocks of from fifty to one hundred thou¬ 
sand dollars, a tin and sheet metal factory, saw-mills, — 
and almost every business, industry, and profession is 
well represented. There are saloons without end, and 
dance halls; a saloon in Alaska that excludes women is not 
known, but good order prevails and disturbances are rare. 

The homes are, for the most part, small, — building 
being excessively high, — but pretty, comfortable, and 
frequently artistic. There are flower-gardens everywhere. 
There is no log-cabin so humble that its bit of garden- 
spot is not a blaze of vivid color. Every window has its 
box of bloom. La France roses were in bloom in July in 
the garden of ex-Governor Leedy, of Kansas, whose home 
is now in Yaldez. 


268 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The civilization of the town is of the highest. The 
whole world might go to Alaska and learn a lesson in gen¬ 
uine, simple, refined hospitality — for its key-note is kind¬ 
ness of heart. 

The visitor soon learns that he must be chary of his ad¬ 
miration of one of the curios on his host’s wall, lest he be 
begged to accept it. 

The Tillicum Club is known in all parts of Alaska. It 
has a very comfortable club-house, where all visitors of 
note to the town are entertained. The club occasionally 
has what its own self calls a “ dry night,” when ladies are 
entertained with cards and music. (The adjective does 
not apply to the entertainment.) 

The dogs of Valdez are interesting. They are large, 
and of every color known to dogdom, the malamutes pre¬ 
dominating. They are all “heroes of the trail,” and are 
respected and treated as “good fellows.” They lie by 
twos and threes clear across the narrow board sidewalks ; 
and unless one understands the language of the trail, it is 
easier to walk around them or to jump over them than it 
is to persuade them to move. A string of oaths, followed 
by “ Mush! ” all delivered like the crack of a whip, brings 
quick results. The dogs hasten to the pier, on a long, 
wolflike lope, when the whistle of a steamer is heard, and 
offer the hospitality of the town to the stranger, with 
waving tails and saluting tongues. 

It is a heavy expense to feed these dogs in Alaska, yet 
few men are known to be so mean as to grudge this ex¬ 
pense to dogs who have faithfully served them, frequently 
saving their lives, on the trail. 

The situation of Valdez is absolutely unique. The 
dauntlessness of a city that would boldly found itself 
upon a glacier has proved too much for even the glacier, 
and it is rapidly withdrawing, as if to make room for its 
intrepid rival in interest. Yet it still is so close that, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


269 


from the water, it appears as though one might reach out 
and touch it. The wide blue bay sparkles in front, and 
snow peaks surround it. 

Beautiful, oh, most beautiful, are those peaks at dawn, 
at sunset, at midnight, at noon. The summer nights in 
Valdez are never dark; and I have often stood at mid¬ 
night and watched the amethyst lights on the mountains 
darken to violet, purple, black, — while the peaks them¬ 
selves stood white and still, softly outlined against the sky. 

But in winter, when mountains, glacier, city, trees, lie 
white and sparkling beneath the large and brilliant stars, 
and the sea alone is dark—to stand then and see the great 
golden moon rising slowly, vibrating, pushing, oh, so 
silently, so beautifully, above the clear line of snow into 
the dark blue sky — that is worth ten years of living. 

“ Why do you not go out to 1 the states,’ as so many 
other ladies do in winter ? ” I asked a grave-eyed young 
wife on my first visit, not knowing that she belonged to 
the great Alaskan order of “ Stout Hearts and Strong 
Hearts” — the only order in Alaska that is for women 
and men. 

She looked at me and smiled. Her eyes went to the 
mountains, and they grew almost as wistful and sweet 
as the eyes of a young mother watching her sleeping child. 
Then they came back to me, grave and kind. 

“ Oh,” said she, “how can I tell you why ? You have 
never seen the moon come over those mountains in winter, 
nor the winter stars shining above the sea.” 

That was all. She could not put it into words more 
clearly than that; but he that runs may read. 

The site of Valdez is as level as a parade ground to the 
bases of the near mountains, which rise in sheer, bold 
sweeps. A line of alders, willows, cottonwoods, and balms 
follows the glacial stream that flows down to the sea on 
each side of the town. 


270 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The glacier behind the town — now called a “ dead ” 
glacier — once discharged bergs directly into the sea. 
The soil upon which the town is built is all glacial de¬ 
posit. Flowers spring up and bloom in a day. Vegeta¬ 
bles thrive and are crisp and delicious — particularly 
lettuce. 

Society is gay in Valdez, as in most Alaskan towns. 
Fort Liscum is situated across the bay, so near that the 
distance between is travelled in fifteen minutes by launch. 
Dances, receptions, card-parties, and dinners, at Valdez 
and at the fort, occur several times each week, and the 
social line is drawn as rigidly here as in larger communi¬ 
ties. 

There is always a dance in Valdez on 44 steamer night/’ 
The officers and their wives come over from the fort; the 
officers of the ship are invited, as are any passengers who 
may bear letters of introduction or who may be introduced 
by the captain of the ship. A large and brightly lighted 
ballroom, beautiful women, handsomely and fashionably 
gowned, good music, and a genuine spirit of hospitality 
make these functions brilliant. 

The women of Alaska dress more expensively than in 
44 the states.” Paris gowns, the most costly furs, and 
dazzling jewels are everywhere seen in the larger towns. 

All travellers in Alaska unite in enthusiastic praise of 
its unique and generous hospitality. From the time of 
Baranoff’s lavish, and frequently embarrassing, banquets to 
the refined entertainments of to-day, northern hospitality 
has been a proverb. 

44 Petnatchit copla ” is still the open sesame. 


CHAPTER XXY 


The trip over “the trail” from Valdez to the Tanana 
country is one of the most fascinating in Alaska. 

At seven o’clock of a July morning five horses stood at 
our hotel door. * Two gentlemen of Valdez had volunteered 
to act as escort to the three ladies in our party for a trip 
over the trail. 

I examined with suspicion the red-bay horse that had 
been assigned to me. 

“ Is he gentle ? ” I asked of one of the gentlemen. 

“ Oh, I don’t know. You can’t take any one’s word 
about a horse in Alaska. They call regular buckers 
‘gentle’ up here. The only way to find out is to try 
them.” 

This was encouraging. 

“ Do you mean to tell me,” said one of the other ladies, 
“that you' don’t know whether these horses have ever 
been ridden by women ? ” 

“No, I do not know.” . 

She sat down on the steps. 

“ Then there’s no trail for me. I don’t know how to 
ride nor to manage a horse.” 

After many moments of persuasion, we got her upon a 
mild-eyed horse, saddled with a cross-saddle. The other 
lady and myself had chosen side-saddles, despite the as¬ 
surance of almost every man in Valdez that we could not 
get over the trail sitting a horse sidewise, without ac¬ 
cident. 


271 


272 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


“ Your skirt’ll catch in the brush and pull you off,” said 
one, cheerfully. 

“ Your feet’ll hit against the rocks in the canyon,” said 
another. 

“ You can’t balance as even on a horse’s back, sideways, 
and if you don’t balance even along the precipice in the 
canyon, your horse’ll go over,” said a third. 

“ Your horse is sure to roll over once or twice in the 
glacier streams, and you can save yourself if you’re riding 
astride,” said a fourth. 

“You’re certain to get into quicksand somewhere on 
the trip, and if all your weight is on one side of your 
horse, you’ll pull him down and he’ll fall on top of you,” 
said a fifth. 

In the face of all these cheerful horrors, our escort said: — 

“ Ride any way you please. If a woman can keep her 
head, she will pull through everything in Alaska. Be¬ 
sides, we are not going along for nothing ! ” 

So we chose side-saddles, that having been our manner 
of riding since childhood. 

We had waited three weeks for the glacial flood at the 
eastern side of the town to subside, and could wait no 
longer. It was roaring within ten steps of the back door 
of our hotel; and in two minutes after mounting, before 
our feet were fairly settled in the stirrups, we had ridden 
down the sloping bank into the boiling, white waters. 

One of the gentlemen rode ahead as guide. I watched 
his big horse go down in the flood — down, down; the 
water rose to its knees, to its rider’s feet, to his knees — 

He turned his head and called cheerfully, “ Come on ! ” 
and we went on — one at a time, as still as the dead, save 
for the splashing and snorting of our horses. I felt the 
water, icy cold, rising high, higher; it almost washed my 
foot from the red-slippered stirrup; then I felt it mount¬ 
ing higher, my skirts floated out on the flood, and then fell, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


273 


limp, about me. My glance kept flying from my horse’s 
head to our guide, and back again. He was tall, and his 
horse was tall. 

“ When it reaches his waist,” was my agonized thought, 
“ it will be over my head! ” 

The other gentleman rode to my side. 

“ Keep a firm hold of your bridle,” said he, gravely, 
“ and watch your horse. If he falls — ” 

“Falls! Inhere /” 

“ They do sometimes; one must be prepared. If he 
falls — of course you can swim ? ” 

“I never swam a stroke in my life; I never even tried! ” 
“ Is it possible ? ” said he, in astonishment. “ Why, we 
would not have advised you to come at this time if we had 
known that. We took it for granted that you wouldn’t 
think of going unless you could swim.” 

“ Oh,” said I, sarcastically, “ do all the women in Valdez 
swim? ” 

“No,” he answered, gravely, “but then, they don’t go 
over the trail. Well, we can only hope that he will not 
fall. When he breaks into a swim — ” 

“ Swim ! Will he do that ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, he is liable to swim any minute now.” 

“ What will I do then ? ” I asked, quite humbly ; I could 
hear tears in my own voice. He must have heard them, 
too, his voice was so kind as he answered. 

“Sit as quietly and as evenly as possible, and lean 
slightly forward in the saddle; then 'trust to heaven and 
give him his head.” 

“ Does he give you any warning? ” 

“Not the faintest — ah-h! ” 

Well might he say “ah-h !” for my horse was swim¬ 
ming. Well might we all say “ah-h!” for one wild 
glance ahead revealed to my glimmering vision that all 
our horses were swimming. 


274 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


I never knew before that horses swam so low down in 
the water. I wished when I could see nothing but my 
horse’s ears that I had not been so stubborn about the 
saddle. 

The water itself was different from any water I had 
ever seen. It did not flow like a river ; it boiled, seethed, 
rushed, whirled ; it pushed up into an angry bulk that 
came down over us like a deluge. I had let go of my 
reins and, leaning forward in the saddle, was clinging to 
my horse’s mane. The rapidly flowing water gave me 
the impression that we were being swept down the stream. 

The roaring grew louder in my ears ; I was so dizzy 
that I could no longer distinguish any object; there was 
just a blur of brown and white water, rising, falling, about 
me ; the sole thought that remained was that I was being 
swept out to sea with my struggling horse. 

Suddenly there was a shock which, to my tortured 
nerves, seemed like a ship striking on a rock. It was 
some time before I realized that it had been caused by 
my horse striking bottom. He was walking—staggering, 
rather, and plunging ; his whole neck appeared, then his 
shoulders ; I released his mane mechanically, as I had 
acted in all things since mounting, and gathered up the 
reins. 

“ That was a nasty one, wasn’t it ? ” said my escort, 
joining me. “ I stayed behind to be of service if } r ou re¬ 
quired it. We’re getting out now, but there are, at least, 
ten or fifteen as bad on the trail—if not worse.” 

As if anything could be worse! 

I chanced to lift my eyes then, and I got a clear view 
of the ladies ahead of me. Their appearance was of such 
a nature that I at once looked myself over—and saw my¬ 
self as others saw me ! It was the first and only time 
that I have ever wished myself at home when I have been 
travelling in Alaska. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 275 

“ Cheer up ! ” called our guide, over his broad shoulder. 
“The worst is yet to come.” 

He spoke more truthfully than even he knew. There 
was one stream after another — and each seemed really 
worse than the one that went before. From Valdez Gla¬ 
cier the ice, melted by the hot July sun, was pouring out 
in a dozen streams that spread over the immense flats be¬ 
tween the town and the mouth of Lowe River. There 
were miles and miles of it. Scarcely would we struggle 
out of one place that had been washed out deep—and 
how deep, we never knew until we were into it—when 
we would be compelled to plunge into another. 

At last, wet and chilled, after several narrow escapes 
from whirlpools and quicksand, we reached a level road 
leading through a cool wood for several miles. From 
this, of a sudden, we began to climb. So steep was the 
ascent and so narrow the path—no wider than the horse’s 
feet—that my horse seemed to have a series of movable 
humps on him, like a camel ; and riding sidewise, I could 
only lie forward and cling desperately to his mane, to 
avoid a shameful descent over his tail. 

Actually, there were steps cut in the hard soil for the 
horses to climb upon! They pulled themselves up with 
powerful plunges. On both sides of this narrow path the 
grass or “ feed, ” as it is called, grew so tall that we 
could not see one another’s heads above it, as we rode ; 
yet it had been growing only six weeks. 

Mingling with young alders, fireweed, devil’s-club and 
elder-berry — the latter sprayed out in scarlet—it formed 
a network across our path, through which we could only 
force our way with closed eyes, blind as Love. 

Bad as the ascent was, the sudden descent was worse. 
The horse’s humps all turned the other way, and we turned 
with them. It was only by constant watchfulness that 
we kept ourselves from sliding over their heads. 


276 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


After another ascent, we emerged into the open upon 
the brow of a cliff. Below us stretched the valley of the 
Lowe River. Thousands of feet below wound and looped 
the blue reaches of the river, set here and there with 
islands of glistening sand or rosy fireweed ; while over all 
trailed the silver mists of morning. One elderberry is¬ 
land was so set with scarlet sprays of berries that from 
our height no foliage could be seen. 

After this came a scented, primeval forest, through 
which we rode in silence. Its charm was too elusive for 
speech. Our horses’ feet sank into the moss without 
sound. There was no underbrush; only dim aisles and 
arcades fashioned from the gray trunks of trees. The 
pale green foliage floating above us completely shut out 
the sun. Soft gray, mottled moss dripped from the 
limbs and branches of the spruce trees in delicate, lacy 
festoons. 

Soon after emerging from this dreamlike wood we 
reached Camp Comfort, where we paused for lunch. 

This is one of the most comfortable road houses in 
Alaska. It is situated in a low, green valley; the river 
winds in front, and snow mountains float around it. The 
air is very sweet. 

It is only ten miles from Valdez; but those ten miles 
are equal to fifty in taxing the endurance. 

We found an excellent vegetable garden at Camp Com¬ 
fort. Pansies and other flowers were as large and fra¬ 
grant as I have ever seen, the coloring of the pansies 
being unusually rich. They told us that only two other 
women had passed over the trail during the summer. 

While our lunch was being prepared, we stood about 
the immense stove in the immense living room and tried 
to dry our clothing. 

This room was at least thirty feet square. It had a 
high ceiling and a rough board floor. In one corner was 



Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau Courtesy oi Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

White Horse Rapids in Winter 










ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


277 


a piano, in another a phonograph. The ceiling was hung 
with all kinds of trail apparel used by men, including 
long boots and heavy stockings, guns and other weapons, 
and other articles that added a picturesque, and even 
startling, touch to the big room. 

In one end was a bench, buckets of water, tin cups 
hanging on nails, washbowls, and a little wavy mirror 
swaying on the wall. The gentlemen of our party played 
the phonograph while we removed the dust and mud which 
we had gathered on our journey; afterward, we played 
the phonograph. 

Then we all stood happily about the stove to “dry 
out,” and listened to our host’s stories of -the miners who 
came out from the Tanana country, laden with gold. 
As many as seventy men, each bearing a fortune, have 
slept at Camp Comfort on a single night. We slept there 
ourselves, on our return journey, but our riches were in 
other things than gold, and there was no need to guard 
them. Any man or woman may go to Alaska and enrich 
himself or herself forever, as we did, if he or she have the 
desire. Not only is there no need to guard our riches, 
but, on the contrary, we are glad to give freely to whom¬ 
soever would have. 

Each man, we were told, had his own way of caring for 
his gold. One leaned a gunnysack full of it outside the 
house, where it stood all night unguarded, supposed to 
be a sack of old clothing, from the carelessness with which 
it was left there. The owner slept calmly in the attic, 
surrounded by men whose gold made their hard pillows. 

They told us, too, of the men who came back, dull-eyed 
and empty-handed, discouraged and footsore. They slept 
long and heavily; there was nothing for them to guard. 

Every road house has its “ talking-machine,” with many 
of the most expensive records. No one can appreciate one 
of these machines until he goes to Alaska. Its influence 


278 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


is not to be estimated in those far, lonely places, where 
other music is not. 

In a big store “ to Westward” we witnessed a scene 
that would touch any heart. The room was filled with 
people. There were passengers and officers from the 
ship, miners, Russian half-breeds, and full-blooded Aleuts. 
After several records had filled the room with melody, 
Calve,herself, sang “The Old Folks At Home.” As that 
voice of golden velvet rose and fell, the unconscious work¬ 
ings of the faces about me spelled out their life tragedies. 
At last, one big fellow in a blue flannel shirt started for 
the door. As he reached it, another man caught his 
sleeve and whispered huskily: — 

“ Where you goin’, Bill ? ” 

“ Oh, anywheres,” he made answer, roughly, to cover 
his emotion; “ anywheres, so’s I can’t hear that damn 
piece,” — and it was not one of the least of Calve’s 
compliments. 

Music in Alaska brings the thought of home ; and it is 
the thought of home that plays upon the heart-strings 
of the North. The hunger is always there, — hidden, 
repressed, but waiting, — and at the first touch of music 
it leaps forth and casts its shadow upon the face. Who 
knows but that it is this very heart-hunger that puts the 
universal human look into Alaskan eyes? 

After a good lunch at Camp Comfort, we resumed our 
journey. There was another bit of enchanting forest; 
then, of a sudden, we were in the famed Keystone Canyon. 

Here, the scenery is enthralling. Solid walls of shaded 
gray stone rise straight from the river to a height of from 
twelve to fifteen hundred feet. Along one cliff winds 
the trail, in many places no wider than the horses’ feet. 
One feels that he must only breathe with the land side 
of him, lest the mere weight of his breath on the other 
side should topple him over the sheer, dizzy precipice. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


279 


It was amusing to see every woman lean toward the 
rock cliff. Not for all the gold of the Klondike would I 
have willingly given one look down into the gulf, sinking 
away, almost under my horse’s feet. Somewhere in those 
purple depths I knew that the river was roaring, white 
and swollen, between its narrow stone walls. 

Now and then, as we turned a sharp, narrow corner, I 
could not help catching a glimpse of it; for a moment, 
horse and rider, as we turned, would seem to hang sus¬ 
pended above it with no strip of earth between. There 
were times, when we were approaching a curve, that there 
seemed to be nothing ahead of us but a chasm that went 
sinking dizzily away; no solid place whereon the horse 
might set his feet. It was like a nightmare in which one 
hangs half over a precipice, struggling so hard to recover 
himself that his heart almost bursts with the effort. 

Then, while I held my breath and blindly trusted to 
heaven, the curve would be turned and the path would 
glimmer once more before my eyes. 

But one false step of the horse, one tiniest rock-slide 
striking his feet, one unexpected sound to startle him — 
the mere thought of these possibilities made my heart 
stop beating. 

We finally reached a place where the descent was 
almost perpendicular and the trail painfully narrow. The 
horses sank to their haunches and slid down, taking gravel 
and stones down with them. I had been imploring to be 
permitted to walk; but now, being far in advance of all 
but one, I did not ask permission. I simply slipped off 
nry horse and left him for the others to bring with them. 
The gentleman with me was forced to do tjie same. 

We paused for a time to rest and to enjoy the most 
beautiful waterfall I saw in Alaska—Bridal Veil. It is 
on the opposite side of the canyon, and has a slow, musi¬ 
cal fall of six hundred feet. 


280 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


When we went on, the other members of our party had 
not yet come up with us, nor had our horses appeared. 
In the narrowest of all narrow places I was walking ahead, 
when, turning a sharp corner, we met a government pack 
train, face to face. 

The bell-horse stood still and looked at me with big 
eyes, evidently as scared at the sight of a woman as an 
old prospector who has not seen one for years. 

I looked at him with eyes as big as his own. There 
was only one thing to do. Behind us was a narrow, V- 
shaped cave in the stone wall, not more than four feet 
high and three deep. Into this we backed, Grecian-bend 
wise, and waited. 

We waited a very long time. The horse stood still, 
blowing his breath loudly from steaming nostrils, and con¬ 
templated us. I never knew before that a horse could 
express his opinion of a person so plainly. Around the 
curve we could hear whips cracking and men swearing; 
but the horse stood there and kept his suspicious eyes on me. 

“ I’ll stay here till dark,” his eyes said, “ but you don’t 
get me past a thing like that! ” 

I didn’t mind his looking, but his snorting seemed like 
an insult. 

At last a man pushed past the horse. When he saw us 
backed gracefully up into the V-shaped cave, he stood as 
still as the horse. Finding that neither he nor my escort 
could think of anything to say to relieve the mental and 
physical strain, I called out graciously:— 

“ How do you do, sir ? Would you like to get by ? ” 

“ I’d like it damn well, lady,” he replied, with what I 
felt to be his very politest manner. 

“ Perhaps,” I suggested sweetly, “ if I came out and let 
the horse get a good look at me—” 

“ Don’t you do it, lady. That ’u’d scare him plumb to 
death! ” 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


281 


I have always been convinced that he did not mean it 
exactly as it sounded, but I caught the flicker of a smile 
on my escort’s face. It was gone in an instant. 

Suddenly the other horses came crowding upon the 
bell-horse. There was nothing for him to do but to go 
past me or to go over the precipice. He chose me as the 
least of the two evils. 

“ Nice pony, nice boy,” I wheedled, as he went sliding 
and snorting past. 

Then we waited for the next horse to come by; but he 
did not come. Turning my head, I found him fixed in 
the same place and the same attitude as the first had been ; 
his eyes were as big and they were set as steadily on me. 

Well — there were fifty horses in that government pack 
train. Every one of the fifty balked at sight of a woman. 
There were horses of every color — gray, white, black, bay, 
chestnut, sorrel, and pinto. The sorrel were the stub- 
bornest of all. To this day, I detest the sight of a sorrel 
horse. 

We stood there in that position for a time that seemed 
like hours; we coaxed each horse as he balked; and at 
the last were reduced to such misery that we gave thanks 
to God that there were only fifty of them and that they 
couldn’t kick sidewise as they passed. 

I forgot about the men. There were seven men ; and 
as each man turned the bend in the trail, he stood as still 
as the stillest horse, and for quite as long a time; and 
naturally I hesitated to say, “ Nice boy, nice fellow,” to 
help him by. 

There were more glacier streams to cross. These were 
floored with huge boulders instead of sand and quicksand. 
The horses stumbled and plunged powerfully. One mis¬ 
step here would have meant death ; the rapids immedi¬ 
ately below the crossing would have beaten us to pieces 
upon the rocks. 


282 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Then came more perpendicular climbing ; but at last, 
at five o ’clock, with our bodies aching with fatigue, and 
our senses finally dulled, through sheer surfeit, to the 
beauty of the journey, we reached “ Wortman’s ” road house. 

This is twenty miles from Valdez; and when we were 
lifted from our horses we could not stand alone, to say 
nothing of attempting to walk. 

But “Wortman’s” is the paradise of road houses. In 
it, and floating over it, is an atmosphere of warmth, com¬ 
fort and good cheer that is a rest for body and heart. 
The beds are comfortable and the meals excellent. 

But it was the welcome that cheered, the spirit of 
genuine kind-heartedness. 

The road house stands in a large clearing, with barns 
and other buildings surrounding it. I never saw so many 
dogs as greeted us, except in Valdez or on the Yukon. 
They crowded about us, barking and shrieking a welcome. 
They were all big malamutes. 

After a good dinner we went to bed at eight o’clock. 
The sun was shining brightly, but we darkened our rooms 
as much as possible, and instantly fell into the sleep of 
utter exhaustion. 

At one o’clock in the morning we were eating break¬ 
fast, and half an hour later we were in our saddles and 
off for the summit of Thompson Pass to see the sun rise. 
This brought out the humps in the horses’ backs again. 
We went up into the air almost as straight as a telegraph 
pole. Over heather, ice, flowers, and snow our horses 
plunged, unspurred. 

It was seven miles to the summit. There were no trees 
nor shrubs, — only grass and moss that gave a velvety look 
to peaks and slopes that seemed to be floating around us 
through the silvery mists that were wound over them like 
turbans. Here and there a hollow was banked with 
frozen snow. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


283 


When we dismounted on the very summit we could 
hardly step without crushing bluebells and geraniums. 

We set the flag of our country on the highest point 
beside the trail, that every loyal-hearted traveller might 
salute it and take hope again, if he chanced to be discour¬ 
aged. Then we sat under its folds and watched the mists 
change from silver to pearl-gray; from pearl-gray to 
pink, amethyst, violet, purple, — and back to rose, gold, 
and flame color. 

One peak after another shone out for a moment, only 
to withdraw. Suddenly, as if with one leap, the sun came 
over the mountain line; vibrated brilliantly, dazzlingly, 
flashing long rays like signals to every quickened peak. 
Then, while we gazed, entranced, other peaks whose pres¬ 
ence we had not suspected were brought to life by those 
searching rays ; valleys appeared, filled with purple, 
brooding shadows ; whole slopes blue with bluebells ; and, 
white and hard, the narrow trail that led on to the pitiless 
land of gold. 

We were above the mountain peaks, above the clouds, 
level with the sun. 

Absolute stillness was about us; there was not one 
faintest sound of nature; no plash of water, nor sough of 
wind, nor call of a bird. It was so still that it seemed 
like the beginning of a new world, with the birth of 
mountains taking place before our reverent eyes, as one 
after another dawned suddenly and goldenly upon our 
vision. 

Every time we had stopped on the trail we had heard 
harrowing stories of saddle-horses or pack-horses having 
missed their footing and gone over the precipice. The 
horses are so carefully packed, and the packs so securely 
fastened on — the last cinch being thrown into the “ dia¬ 
mond hitch ” — that the poor beasts can roll over and 
over to the bottom of a canyon without disarranging a 


284 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


pack weighing two hundred pounds — a feat which the^ 
very frequently perform. 

The military trail is, of necessity, poor enough; but it 
is infinitely superior to all other trails in Alaska, and is a 
boon to the prospector. It is a well-defined and well- 
travelled highway. The trees and bushes are cut in 
places for a width of thirty feet, original bridges span the 
creeks when it is possible to bridge them at all, and some 
corduroy has been laid; but in many places the trail is a 
mere path, not more than two feet wide, shovelled or 
blasted from the hillside. 

In Alaska there were practically no roads at all until 
the appointment in 1905 of a road commission consisting 
of Major W. P. Richardson, Captain G. B. Pillsbury, and 
Lieutenant L. C. Orchard. Since that year eight hun¬ 
dred miles of trails, wagon and sled roads, numerous 
ferries, and hundreds of bridges have been constructed. 
The wagon road-beds are all sixteen feet wide, with free 
side strips of a hundred feet; the sled roads are twelve 
feet wide; the trails, eight; and the bridges, fourteen. 
In the interior, laborers on the roads are paid five dollars 
a day, with board and lodging; they are given better food 
than any laborers in Alaska, with the possible exception 
of those employed at the Treadwell mines and on the 
Cordova Railroad. The average cost of road work in 
Alaska is about two thousand dollars a mile; two hun¬ 
dred and fifty for sled road, and one hundred for trails. 
These roads have reduced freight rates one-half and have 
helped to develop rich regions that had been inaccessible. 
Their importance in the development of the country is 
second to that of railroads only. ^ 

The scenery from Ptarmigan Drop down the Tsina 
River to Beaver Dam is magnificent. Huge mountains, 
saw-toothed and covered with snow, jut diagonally out 
across the valley, one after another; streams fall, riffling, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


285 


down the sides of the mountains; and the cloud-effects 
are especially beautiful. 

Tsina River is a narrow, foaming torrent, confined, for 
the most part, between sheer hills, — although, in places, 
it spreads out over low, gravelly flats. Beaver Dam 
huddles into a gloomy gulch at the foot of a vast, over¬ 
hanging mountain. Its situation is what Whidbey would 
have called “gloomily magnificent.” In 1905 Beaver 
Dam was a road house which many chose to avoid, if pos¬ 
sible. 

The Tiekel road house on the Kanata River is pleas¬ 
antly situated, and is a comfortable place at which to eat 
and rest. 

For its entire length, the military trail climbs and falls 
and winds through scenery of inspiring beauty. The 
trail leading off to the east at Tonsina, through the 
Copper River, Nizina, and Chitina valleys, is even more 
beautiful. 

Vast plains and hillsides of bloom are passed. Some 
mountainsides are blue with lupine, others rosy with fire- 
weed ; acres upon acres are covered with violets, bluebells, 
wild geranium, anemones, spotted moccasin and other 
orchids, buttercups, and dozens of others — all large and 
vivid of color. It has often been said that the flowers of 
Alaska are not fragrant, but this is not true. 

The mountains of the vicinity are glorious. Mount 
Drum is twelve thousand feet high. Sweeping up splen¬ 
didly from a level plain, it is more imposing than Mount 
Wrangell, which is fourteen thousand feet high, and 
Mount Blackburn, which is sixteen thousand feet. 

The view from the summit of Sour-Dough Hill is un¬ 
surpassed in the interior of Alaska. Glacial creeks and 
roaring rivers; wild and fantastic canyons; moving 
glaciers ; gorges of royal purple gloom; green valleys 
and flowery slopes; the domed and towered Castle 


286 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


Mountains ; the lone and majestic peaks pushing up above 
all others, above the clouds, cascades spraying down sheer 
precipices ; and far to the south the linked peaks of the 
Coast Range piled magnificently upon the sky, dim and 
faintly blue in the great. distance, — all blend into one 
grand panorama of unrivalled inland grandeur. 

Crossing the Copper River, when it is high and swift, 
is dangerous, — especially for a “ chechaco ” of either sex. 
(A chechaco is one who has not been in Alaska a year.) 
Packers are often compelled to unpack their horses, put¬ 
ting all their effects into large whipsawed boats. The 
halters are taken off the horses and the latter are driven 
into the roaring torrent, followed by the packers in the 
boats. 

The horses apparently make no effort to reach the op¬ 
posite shore, but use their strength desperately to hold 
their own in the swift current, fighting against it, with 
their heads turned pitifully up-stream. Their bodies be¬ 
ing turned at a slight angle, the current, pushing violently 
against them, forces them slowly, but surely, from sand 
bar to sand bar, and, finally, to the shore. 

It frequently requires two hours to get men, horses, 
and outfit from shore to shore, where they usually arrive 
dripping wet. Women who make this trip, it is needless 
to say, suffer still more from the hardship of the crossing 
than do men. 

In riding horses across such streams, they should be 
started diagonally up-stream toward the first sand bar 
above. They lean far forward, bracing themselves at 
every step against the current and choosing their footing 
carefully. The horses of the trail know all the dangers, 
and scent them afar — holes, boulders, irresistible cur¬ 
rents, and quicksand; they detect them before the most 
experienced “ trailer ” even suspects them. 

I will not venture even to guess what the other two 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


28T 


women in my party did when they crossed dangerous 
streams; but for myself, I wasted no strength in trying 
to turn my horse’s head up-stream, or down-stream, or in 
any other direction. When we went down into the foam¬ 
ing water, I gave him his head, clung to his mane, leaned 
forward in the saddle, — and prayed like anything. I do 
not believe in childishly asking the Lord to help one so 
long as one can help one’s self; but when one is on the back 
of a half-swimming, half-floundering horse in the middle of 
a swollen, treacherous flood, with holes and quicksand on 
all sides, one is as helpless as he was the day he was born; 
and it is a good time to pray. 

According to the report of Major Abercrombie, who 
probably knows this part of Alaska more thoroughly than 
any one else, there are hundreds of thousands of acres in 
the Copper River Valley alone where almost all kinds of 
vegetables, as well as barley and rye, will grow in abun¬ 
dance and mature. Considering the travel to the many 
and fabulously rich mines already discovered in this 
valley and adjacent ones, and the cost of bringing in 
grain and supplies, it may be easily seen what splendid 
opportunities await the small farmer who will select his 
homestead judiciously, with a view to the accommodation 
of man and beast, and the cultivation of food for both. 
The opportunities awaiting such a man are so much more 
enticing than the inducements of the bleak Dakota prai¬ 
ries or the wind-swept valleys of the Yellowstone as to be 
beyond comparison. 

Major Abercrombie believes that the valleys of the sub¬ 
drainage of the Copper River Valley will in future years 
supply the demands for cereals and vegetables, if not for 
meats, of the thousands of miners that will be required to 
extract the vast deposits of metals from the Tonsina, 
Chitina, Kotsina, Nizina, Chesna, Tanana, and other fa¬ 
mous districts. 


288 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


The vast importance to the whole territory of Alaska, 
and to the United States, as well, of the building of the 
Guggenheim railroad from Cordova into this splendid in¬ 
land empire may be realized after reading Major Aber¬ 
crombie’s report. 

We have been accustomed to mineralized zones of from 
ten to twelve miles in length; in the Wrangell group 
alone we have a circle eighty miles in diameter, the min¬ 
eralization of which is simply marvellous; yet, valuable 
though these concentrates are, they are as valueless com¬ 
mercially as so much sandstone, without the aid of a rail¬ 
road and reduction works. 

If the group of mines at Butte could deflect a great 
transcontinental trunk-line like the Great Northern, what 
will this mighty zone, which contains a dozen properties 
already discovered, — to say nothing of the unfound, un¬ 
dreamed-of ones, — of far greater value as copper propo¬ 
sitions than the richest of Montana, do to advance the 
commercial interests of the Pacific Coast ? 

The first discovery of gold in the Nizina district was 
made by Daniel Kain and Clarence Warner. These two 
prospectors were urged by a crippled Indian to accom¬ 
pany him to inspect a vein of copper on the head waters 
of a creek that is now known as Dan Creek. 

Not being impressed by the copper outlook, the two 
prospectors returned. They noticed, however, that the 
gravel of Dan Creek had a look of placer gold. 

They were out of provisions, and were in haste to reach 
their supplies, fifty miles away; but Kain was reluctant 
to leave the creek unexamined. He went to a small lake 
and caught sufficient fish for a few days’ subsistence; 
then, with a shovel for his only tool, he took out five 
ounces of coarse gold in two days. 

In this wise was the rich Nizina district discovered. 
The Nizina River is only one hundred and sixty miles 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


289 


from Valdez. In Rex Gulch as much as eight ounces 
of gold have been taken out by one man in a single day. 
The gold is of the finest quality, assaying over eighteen 
dollars an ounce. 

There is an abundance of timber suitable for building 
houses and for firewood on all the creeks. There is 
water at all seasons for sluicing, and, if desired, for 
hydraulic work. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


The famous Bonanza Copper Mine is on the moun¬ 
tainside high above the Kennicott Valley, and near the 
Kennicott Glacier — the largest glacier of the Alaskan 
interior. This glacier does not entirely fill the valley, 
and one travels close to its precipitous wall of ice, which 
dwindles from a height of one hundred feet to a low, 
gravel-darkened moraine. From the summit of Sour- 
Dough Hill it may be seen for its whole forty-mile length 
sweeping down from Mounts Wrangell and Regal. 

The Bonanza Mine has an elevation of six thousand 
feet, and was discovered by the merest chance. 

The history of this mine from the day of its discovery 
is one of the most fascinating of Alaska. In the autumn 
of 1899 a prospecting party was formed at Valdez, known 
as the “ McClellan ” party. The ten individuals com¬ 
posing the party were experienced miners and they 
contributed money, horses, and “ caches,” as well as 
experience. The principal cache was known as the 
“McCarthy Cabin” cache, and was about fifteen miles 
east of Copper River on the trail to the Nicolai Mine. 

The Nicolai had been discovered early in the summer 
by R. F. McClellan, who was one of the men compos¬ 
ing the “ McClellan ” party, and others. Another im¬ 
portant cache of three thousand pounds of provisions 
was the “Amy” cache, thirty-five miles from Valdez, 
just over the summit of Thompson Pass. 

The agreement was that the McClellan party was to 
290 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


291 


prospect in the interior in 1900 and 1901, all property- 
located to be for their joint benefit. 

The members of the party scattered soon after the 
organization was completed. Clarence Warner, John 
Sweeney, and Jack Smith remained in Valdez for the 
winter, all the others going “ out to the states.” 

In March of 1900 Warner and Smith set out for the 
interior over the snow. There was no government trail 
then, and the hardships to be endured were as terrific as 
were those of the old Chilkoot Pass, on. the way to the Klon¬ 
dike. The snow was from six to ten feet deep, and their 
progress was slow and painful. One went ahead on snow- 
shoes, the other following; when the trail thus made was 
sufficiently hard, the hand sleds, loaded with provisions 
and bedding, were drawn over it by ropes around the 
men’s shoulders. From two to three hundred pounds was 
a heavy burden for each man to drag through the soft snow. 

Climbing the summit, and at other steep places, they 
were compelled to “ relay,” by leaving the greater portion 
of their load beside the trail, pulling only a few pounds 
for a short distance and returning for more. By the 
most constant and exhaustive labor they were able to 
make only five or six miles a day. 

They replenished their stores at the “ Amy ” cache, 
near the summit, and in May reached the “McCarthy 
Cabin” cache. Here they found that the Indians had 
broken in and stolen nearly all the supplies. 

When they left Valdez, it was with the expectation 
that McClellan, or some other member of the party, 
would bring in their horses to the McCarthy cabin, that 
their supplies might be packed from that point on horse¬ 
back, — the snow melting in May making it impossible to 
use sleds, and no man being able to carry more than a few 
pounds on his back for so long a journey as they expected 
to make. 


292 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


However, McClellan had, during the winter, entered 
into a contract with the Chitina Exploration Company 
at San Francisco to do a large amount of development 
work on the Nicolai Mine during the summer of 1900. 
He returned to Valdez after Warner and Smith had left, 
bringing twenty horses, a large outfit of tools and sup¬ 
plies, and fifteen men — among them some of the McClel¬ 
lan prospecting party, who had agreed to work for the 
season for the Chitina Company. 

When this party reached the McCarthy cabin, they 
found Warner and Smith there. An endless dispute 
thereupon began as to the amount of provisions the two 
men had when the Chitina party arrived, — Warner and 
Smith claiming that they had five hundred pounds, and 
the Chitina Company claiming that they were entirely 
“out of grub,” to use miner’s language. 

Warner and Smith demanded that McClellan should 
give them two horses belonging to the McClellan pros¬ 
pecting party, which he had brought. This matter was 
finally settled by McClellan’s packing in what remained 
of Smith and Warner’s provisions to the Nicolai Mine, a 
distance of nearly a hundred miles. 

McClellan, as superintendent of the Chitina Company, 
used, with that company’s horses, four of the McClellan 
party’s horses during the entire season, sending them 
to and from Valdez, packing supplies. 

In the meantime, upon reaching the Nicolai Mine, on 
the 1st of July, Warner and Smith, packing supplies on 
their backs, set out to prospect. The Chitina Company, 
in the famous and bitterly contested lawsuit which fol¬ 
lowed, claimed that they were supplied with the Chitina 
Company’s “grub”; while Smith and Warner claimed 
that their provisions belonged to the McClellan party. 

After a few days’ aimless wandering, they reached a 
point on the east side of Ivennicott Glacier, about twenty 


































































































































































/ 































Copyright by J. Doody, Dawson 

Steamer “ White Horse ” in Hive-Finger Rapids 







ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


293 


miles west of the Nicolai Mine. Here they camped at 
noon, near a small stream that came running down from 
a great height. 

Their camp was about halfway up a mountain which 
was six. thousand feet high. After a miner’s lunch of 
bacon and beans, they were packing up to resume their 
wanderings, when Warner, chancing to glance upward, 
discovered a green streak near the top of the mountain. 
It looked like grass, and at first he gave it no thought; 
but presently it occurred to him that, as they were 
camped above timber-line, grass would not be growing 
at such a height. 

They at once decided to investigate the peculiar and 
mysterious coloring. The mountain was steep, and it was 
after a slow and painful climb that they reached the top. 
Jack Smith stooped and picked up a piece of shining 
metal. 

“My God, Clarence,” he said fervently, “it’s copper.” 

It was copper; the richest copper, in the greatest quan¬ 
tities, ever found upon the earth. There were hundreds 
of thousands of tons of it. There was a whole mountain 
of it. It was so bright and shining that they, at first, 
thought it was Galena ore; but they soon discovered 
that it was copper glance, — a copper ore bearing about 
seventy-five per cent of pure copper. 

The Havemeyers, Guggenheims, and other eastern capi¬ 
talists became interested. Then, when the marvellous 
richness of the discovery of Jack Smith and Clarence 
Warner became known, a lawsuit was begun — hinging 
upon the grub-stake — which was so full of dramatic 
incidents, attempted bribery, charges of corruption reach¬ 
ing to the United States Senate and high government offi¬ 
cials, that the facts would make a long story, vivid with 
life, action, and fantastic setting — the scene reaching 
from Alaska to New York, and from New York to Manila. 


294 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


The lawsuit was at last settled in favor of the dis¬ 
coverers. 

On January 14, 1908, Mr. Smith disposed of his in¬ 
terest in a mine which he had located across McCarthy 
Creek from the Bonanza, for a hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars. It will be “stocked” and named “The Bonanza 
Mine Extension.” It is said' to be as rich as the great 
Bonanza itself. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


In the district which comprises the entire coast from 
the southern boundary of • Oregon to the northernmost 
point of Alaska there are but forty-five lighthouses. 
Included in this district are the Strait of Juan de Fuca, 
Washington Sound, the Gulf of Georgia, and all the tidal 
waters tributary to the sea straits and sounds of this 
coast. There are also twenty-eight fog signals, operated 
by steam, hot air, or oil engines; six fog signals operated 
by clockwork; two gas-lighted buoys in position; nine 
whistling-buoys and five bell-buoys in position; three 
hundred and twenty-two other buoys in position; and 
four tenders, to visit lighthouses and care for buoys. 

The above list does not include post lights, the Uma¬ 
tilla Reef Light vessel, and unlighted day beacons. 

It is the far, lonely Alaskan coast that is neglected. 
The wild, stormy, and immense stretch of coast reaching 
from Chichagof! Island to Point Barrow in the Arctic 
Ocean has two light and fog signal* stations on Unimak 
Island and two fixed lights on Cape Stephens. A light 
and fog signal station is to be built at Cape Hinching- 
broke, and a light is to be established at Point Romanoff. 

No navigator should be censured for disaster on this 
dark and dangerous coast. The little Dora, running 
regularly from Seward and Valdez to Unalaska, does not 
pass a light. Her way is wild and stormy in winter, and 
the coasts she passes are largely uninhabited; yet there 
is not a flash of light, unless it be from some volcano, 

295 


296 


A LA SKA : THE GREAT CO UNTRY 


to guide her into difficult ports and around the perilous 
reefs with which the coast abounds. 

A prayer for a lighthouse at the entrance to Resurrec¬ 
tion Bay was refused by the department, with the advice 
that the needs of commerce do not require a light at this 
point, particularly as there are several other points more 
in need of such aid. The department further advised 
that it would require a hundred thousand dollars to es¬ 
tablish a light and fog signal station at the place desig¬ 
nated, instead of the twenty-five thousand dollars asked. 

Meanwhile, ships are wrecked and lives and valuable 
cargoes are lost, — and will be while the Alaskan coast 
remains unlighted. 

Along the intricate, winding, and exceedingly danger¬ 
ous channels, straits, and narrows of the “ inside passage ” 
of southeastern Alaska, there are only seven light and 
fog signals, and ten lights; but where the sea-coast be¬ 
longs to Canada there is sufficient light and ample buoy¬ 
age protection, as all mariners admit. 

Is our government’s rigid, and in some instances stub¬ 
born, economy in this matter a wise one ? Is it a humane 
one? The nervous strain of this voyage on a conscien¬ 
tious and sensitive master of a ship heavily laden with 
human beings is tremendous. The anxious faces and un¬ 
relaxing vigilance of the officers on the bridge when a 
ship is passing through Taku Open, Wrangell Narrows, 
or Peril Straits speak plainly and unmistakably of the 
ceaseless burden of responsibility and anxiety which they 
bear. The charting of these waters is incomplete as yet, 
notwithstanding the faithful service which the Geodetic 
Survey has performed for many years. Many a rock has 
never been discovered until a ship went down upon it. 

Political influence has been known to establish lights, 
at immense cost, at points where they are practically 
luxuries, rather than needs; therefore the government 
should not be censured for cautiousness in this matter. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


297 


But it should be, and it is, censured for not investigat¬ 
ing carefully the needs of the Alaskan Coast — the 
“Great Unlighted Way.” 

Seward is situated almost as beautifully as Valdez. 
It is only five years old. It is the sea terminal of the 
Alaska Central Railway, which is building to the Tanana, 
through a rich country that is now almost unknown. 
It will pass within ten miles of Mount McKinley, which 
rises from a level plain to an altitude of nearly twenty- 
one thousand feet. 

This mountain has been known to white men for nearly 
a century; yet until very recently it did not appear upon 
any map, and had no official name. More than fifty years 
ago the Russian fur traders knew it and called it “ Bulshaia,” 
— signifying “ high mountain ” or “ great mountain. ” The 
natives called it “ Trolika,” a name having the same 
meaning. 

Explorers, traders, and prospectors have seen it and com¬ 
mented upon its magnificent height, yet without realizing 
its importance, until Mr. W. A. Dickey saw it in 1896 
and proposed for it the name of McKinley. In 1902 Mr. 
Alfred Hulse Brooks, of the United States Geological 
Survey, with two associates and four camp men, made an 
expedition to the mountain. Mr. Brooks’ report of this 
expedition is exceedingly interesting. He spent the sum¬ 
mer of 1906, also, upon the mountain. 

The town site of Seward was purchased from the Lowells, 
a pioneer family, by Major J. E. Ballaine, for four thousand 
dollars. It has grown very rapidly. Stumps still stand 
upon the business streets, and silver-barked log-cabins 
nestle modestly and picturesquely beside imposing build¬ 
ings. The bank and the railway company have erected 
handsome homes. Every business and profession is repre¬ 
sented. There are good schools and churches, an electric- 


298 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


light plant, two newspapers, a library and hospital, pro¬ 
gressive clubs, and all the modern luxuries of western 
towns. 

When Mr. Seward was asked what he considered the 
most important measure of his political career, he replied, 
“ The purchase of Alaska; but it will take the people a 
generation to find it out.” 

Since the loftiest and noblest peak of North America 
was doomed to be named for a man, it should have borne 
the name of this dauntless, loyal, and far-seeing friend of 
Alaska and of all America. Since this was not to be, it 
was very fitting that a young and ambitious town on the 
historic Voskressenski Harbor should bear this honored 
and forever-to-be-remembered name. If Seward and 
Valdez would but work together, the region extending 
from Prince William Sound to Cook Inlet would soon be¬ 
come the best known and the most influential of Alaska, 
as it is, with the addition of the St. Elias Alps, the most 
sublimely and entrancingly beautiful. 

Voskressenski Harbor, or Resurrection Bay, pushes out 
in purple waves in front of Seward, and snow peaks circle 
around it, the lower hills being heavily wooded. There 
is a good wharf and a safe harbor; the bay extends inland 
eighteen miles, is completely land-locked, and is kept free 
of ice the entire year, as is the Bay of Valdez and Cook 
Inlet, by the Japan current. 

It is estimated that the Alaska Central Railway will 
cost, when completed to Fairbanks, at least twenty-five 
millions of dollars. Several branches will be extended 
into different and important mining regions. 

The road has a general maximum grade of one per cent. 
The Coast Range is crossed ten miles from Seward, at an 
elevation of only seven hundred feet. The road follows 
the shore of Lake Kenai, Turnagain Arm, and Knik Arm 
on Cook Inlet; then, reaching the Sushitna River, it 


ALA SKA: THE GREAT CO UNTRY 


299 


follows the sloping plains of that valley for a hundred 
miles, when, crossing the Alaskan Range, it descends into 
the vast valley at the head of navigation on the Tanana 
River, in the vicinity of Chena and Fairbanks. 

All of the country which this road is expected to 
traverse when completed is rich in coal, copper, and quartz 
and placer gold. 

There is a large amount of timber suitable for domestic 
use throughout this part of the country, spruce trees of 
three and four feet in diameter being common near the 
coast; inland, the timber is smaller, but of fair quality. 

There is much good agricultural land along the line of 
the road; the soil is rich and the climatic conditions quite 
as favorable as those of many producing regions of the 
northern United States and Europe. Grass, known as 
“ red-top,” grows in abundance in the valleys and provides 
food for horses and cattle. It is expected that, so soon as 
the different railroads connect the great interior valleys 
with the sea,- the government’s offer of three hundred and 
twenty acres to the homesteader will induce many people 
to settle there. The Alaska Central Railroad is completed 
for a distance of fifty-three miles, — more than half the 
distance to the coal-fields north of Cook Inlet. 

Arrangements have been made for the building of a 
large smelter at Seward, to cost three hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars, in 1908. 

Cook Inlet enjoys well-deserved renown for its scenery. 
Between it and the Chugach Gulf is the great Kenai Pen¬ 
insula, whose shores are indented by many deep inlets and 
bays. The most important of these is Resurrection Bay. 

Wood is plentiful along the coast of the peninsula. 
Cataracts, glaciers, snow peaks, green valleys, and lovely 
lakes abound. 

The peninsula is shaped somewhat like a great pear. 


300 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Turnagain Arm and an inlet of Prince William Sound 
almost meet at the north; but the portage mentioned on 
another page prevents it from being an island. It is 
crowned by the lofty and rugged Kenai Mountains. 

Off its southern coast are several clusters of islands — 
Pye and Chugatz islands, Seal and Chiswell rocks. 

In the entrance to Cook Inlet lie Barren Islands, 
Amatuli Island, and Ushugat Island. 

On a small island off the southern point of the peninsula 
is a lofty promontory, which Cook named Cape Elizabeth 
because it was sighted on the Princess Elizabeth’s birth¬ 
day. The lofty, two-peaked promontory on the opposite 
side of the entrance he named Douglas, in honor of his 
friend, the Canon of Windsor. 

Between the capes, the entrance is sixty-five miles wide; 
but it steadily diminishes until it reaches a width of but 
a few miles. There is a passage on each side of Barren 
Islands. 

The Inlet receives the waters of several rivers : the 
Sushitna, Matanuska, Knik, Yentna,—.which flows into 
the Sushitna near its mouth,— Kaknu, and Kassitof. 

Lying near the western shore of the inlet, and just in¬ 
side the entrance, is an island which rises in graceful 
sweeps on all sides, directly from the water to a smooth, 
broken-pointed, and beautiful cone. This cone forms the 
entire island, and there is not the faintest break in its 
symmetry until the very crest is reached. It is the vol¬ 
cano of St. Augustine. 

A chain of active volcanoes extends along the western 
shore. Of these, Iliamna, the greatest, is twelve thousand 
sixty-six feet in height, and was named “Miranda, the 
Admirable ” by Spanish navigators, who may usually be 
relied upon for poetically significant, or soft-sounding, 
names. It is clad in eternal snow, but smoke-turbans are 
wound almost constantly about its brow. It was in erup- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


801 


tion in 1854, and running lava has been found near the 
lower crater. There are many hot and sulphurous springs 
on its sides. 

North of Iliamna is Goryalya, or “The Redoubt,” which 
is a lesser 44 smoker,” eleven thousand two hundred and 
seventy feet high. It was in eruption in 1867, and ashes 
fell on islands more than a hundred and fifty miles away. 

Iliamna Lake is one of the two largest lakes in Alaska. 
It is from fifty to eighty miles long and from fifteen to 
twenty-five wide. A pass at a height of about eight hun¬ 
dred feet affords an easy route of communication between 
the upper end of the lake and a bay of the same name on 
Cook Inlet, near the volcano, and has long been in use by 
white, as well as native, hunters and prospectors. The 
country surrounding the lake is said to abound in large 
and small game. Lake Clark, to the north, is connected 
with Lake Iliamna by the Nogheling River. It is longer 
than Iliamna, but very much narrower. It lies directly 
west of the Redoubt Volcano. 

Iliamna Lake is connected with Behring Sea by Kvichak 
River, which flows into Bristol Bay. The lake is a 
natural hatchery of king salmon, and immense canneries 
are located on Bristol Bay, which lies directly north of 
the Aliaska Peninsula. 

It is comparatively easy for hunters to cross by the 
chain of lakes and water-ways from Bristol Bay to Cook 
Inlet — which is known to sportsmen of all countries, 
both shores offering everything in the way of game. 
The big brown bear of the inlet is the same as the famous 
Kadiak; and hunters come from all parts of the world 
when they can secure permits to kill them. Moose, cari¬ 
bou, mountain sheep, mountain goat, deer, and all kinds 
of smaller game are also found. There are many trout 
and salmon streams on the eastern shore of the inlet, 
and the lagoons and marshes are the haunts of water-fowl. 


302 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The voyage up Cook Inlet is one of the most fascinat¬ 
ing that may be taken, as a side trip, in Alaska. 

Large steamers touch only at Homer and Seldovia, just 
inside the entrance. There is a good wharf at Homer, 
but at Seldovia there is another rope-ladder descent and 
dory landing. There are a post-office, several stores and 
houses, and a little Greek-Russian church. Scattered 
over a low bluff at one side of the settlement are the 
native huts, half hidden in tall reeds and grasses, and a 
native graveyard. 

Seldovia is not the place to buy baskets, as the only 
ones to be obtained are of very inferior coloring and 
workmanship. 

My Scotch friend was so fearful that some one else 
might secure a treasure that she seized the first basket in 
sight at Seldovia, paying five dollars for it. It was not 
large, and as for its appearance —! 

But with one evil mind we all pretended to envy her 
and to regret that we had not seen it first; so that, for 
some time, she stepped out over the tundra with quite a 
proud and high step, swinging her “ buy ” proudly at her 
right side, where all might see and admire. 

Presently, however, we came to a hut wherein we 
stumbled upon all kinds of real treasures — old bows and 
arrows, kamelinkas, bidarkas, virgin charms, and ivory 
spears. We all gathered these things unto ourselves — 
all but my Scotch friend. She stood by, watching us, 
silent, ruminative. 

She had spent all that she cared to spend on curios in 
one day on the single treasure which she carried in her 
hand. We observed that presently she carried it less 
proudly and that her carriage had less of haughtiness in 
it, as we went across the beach to the dory. 

She took the basket down to the engine-room to have 
it steamed. I do not know what the engineer said to her 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


303 


about her purchase, but when she came back, her face 
was somewhat flushed. The Scotch are not a demonstra¬ 
tive race, and when she ever after referred to the chief 
engineer simply as “that engineer down there,” I felt 
that it meant something. She never again mentioned 
that basket to me; but I have seen it in six different 
curio stores trying to get itself sold. 

At Seldovia connection is made with small steamers 
running up the inlet to the head of the arm. Hope and 
Sunrise are the inspiring names of the chief settlements 
of the arm. 

The tides of Cook Inlet are tremendous. There are 
fearful tide-rips at the entrance and again about halfway 
up the inlet, where they appeared “ frightful ” to Cook 
and his men. The tide enters Turnagain Arm, at the 
head of the inlet, in a huge bore, which expert canoemen 
are said to be able to ride successfully, and to thus be 
carried with great speed and delightful danger on their 
way. 

Cook thought that the inlet was a river, of which the 
arm was an eastern branch. Therefore, at the entrance 
of the latter, he exclaimed in disappointment and chagrin, 
“ Turn again ! ” — and afterward bestowed this name 
upon the slender water-way. 

He modestly left only a blank for the name of the great 
inlet itself; and after his cruel death at the hands of 
natives in the Sandwich Islands, Lord Sandwich directed 
that it be named Cook’s River. 

The voyage of two hundred miles to the head of the 
arm by steamer is slow and sufficiently romantic to 
satisfy the most sentimental. The steamer is compelled 
to tie up frequently to await the favorable stage of the 
tide, affording ample opportunity and time for the full 
enjoyment of the varied attractions of the trip. The nu¬ 
merous waterfalls are among the finest of Alaska. 


304 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Even to-day the trip is attended by the gravest dangers 
and is only attempted by experienced navigators who are 
familiar with its unique perils. The very entrance is the 
dread of mariners. The tide-rips that boil and roar around 
the naked Barren Islands subject ships to graver danger 
than the fiercest storms on this wild and stormy coast. 

The tides of Turnagain Arm rival those of the Bay of 
Fundy, entering in tremendous bores that advance faster 
than a horse can run and bearing everything with resist¬ 
less force before them. After the first roar of the enter¬ 
ing tide is heard, there is but a moment in which to make 
for safety. There is a tide fall in the arm of from twenty 
to twenty-seven feet. 

The first Russian settlement of the inlet was by the 
establishment of a fort by Shelikoff, near the entrance, 
named Alexandrovsk. It was followed in 1T86 by the 
establishment of the Lebedef-Lastuchkin Company on the 
Kussilof River in a settlement and fort named St. George. 

Fort Alexandrovsk formed a square with two bastions, 
and the imperial arms shone over the entrance, which was 
protected by two guns. The situation, however, was not 
so advantageous for trading as that of the other company. 

In 1791 the Lebedef Company established another fort, 
the Redoubt St. Nicholas, still farther up the inlet, just 
below that narrowing known as the “ Forelands,.” at the 
Kaknu, or Kenai, River. At this place the shores jut out 
into three steep, cliffy points which were named by Van¬ 
couver West, North, and East Forelands. 

Here Vancouver found the flood-tide running with such 
a violent velocity that the best bower cable proved unable 
to resist it, and broke. The buoy sank by the strength 
of the current, and both the anchor and the cable were 
irrecoverably lost. 

Cook did not enter Turnagain Arm, but Vancouver 
learned from the Russians that neither the arm nor the 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


305 


inlet was a river ; that the arm terminated some thirty 
miles from its mouth; and that from its head the Russians 
walked about fifteen versts over a mountain and entered 
an inlet of Prince William Sound, — thereby keeping them¬ 
selves in communication with their fellow-countrymen at 
Port Etches and Kaye Island. 

Vancouver sent Lieutenant Whidbey and some men to 
explore the arm; but having entered with the bore and 
finding no place where he might escape its ebb, he was 
compelled to return with it, without making as complete 
an examination as was desired. 

The country bordering upon the bays along Turnagain 
Arm is low, richly wooded, and pleasant, rising with a 
gradual slope, until the inner point of entrance is reached. 
Here the shores suddenly rise to bold and towering emi¬ 
nences, perpendicular cliffs, and mountains which to 
poor Whidbey, as usual, appeared “ stupendous ” — cleft 
by “ awfully grand ” chasms and gullies, down which 
rushed immense torrents of water. 

The tide rises thirty feet with a roaring rush that is 
really terrifying to hear and see. 

At a Russian settlement Whidbey found one large house, 
fifty by twenty-four feet, occupied by nineteen Russians. 
One door afforded the only ventilation, and it was usually 
closed. 

Whidbey and his men were hospitably received and 
were offered a repast of dried fish and native cranberries; 
but because of the offensive odor of the house, owing to 
the lack of ventilation and other unmentionable horrors, 
they were unable to eat. Perceiving this, their host 
ordered the cranberries taken away and beaten up with 
train-oil, when they were again placed before the visitors. 
This last effort of hospitality proved too much for the 
politeness of the Englishmen, and they rushed out into the 
cool air for relief. 


806 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Indeed, the Russians appeared to live quite as filthily 
and disgustingly as the natives, and to have fallen into 
all their cooking, living, and other customs, save those of 
painting their faces and wearing ornaments in lips, noses, 
and ears. 

The name “inlet,” instead of “river,” was first applied to 
this torrential water-way in 1794 by Vancouver, who also 
bestowed upon Turnagain the designation of “arm.” 

Vancouver, upon the invitation of the commanding 
officer who came out to his ships for that purpose, paid 
the Redoubt St. Nicholas, near the Forelands, a visit. 
He was saluted by two guns from a kind of balcony, above 
which the Russian flag floated on top of a house situated 
upon a cliff. 

Captain Dixon, the most pious navigator I have found, 
with the exception of the Russians, extolled the Supreme 
Being for having so bountifully provided in Cook Inlet 
for the needs of the wretched natives 'who inhabited the 
region. The fresh fish and game of all kinds, so easily 
procured, the rich skins with which to clothe their bodies, 
— inspired him to praise and thanksgiving. 

For the magnificent water-way pushing northward, 
glaciered, cascaded, blue-bayed, and emerald-valed, with 
unbroken chains of snow peaks and volcanoes on both 
sides, — up which the voyager sails charmed and fascinated 
to-day, — he spoke no enthusiastic word of praise. On 
the contrary, he found the aspect dreary and uncomfort¬ 
able. Even Whidbey, the Chilly, could not have given 
way to deeper shudders than did Dixon in Cook Inlet. 

The low land and green valleys close to the shore, 
grown with trees, shrubbery, and tall grasses, he found 
“ not altogether disagreeable,” but it was with shock upon 
shock to his delicate and outraged feelings that he sailed 
between the mountains covered with eternal, snow. Their 
“ prodigious extent and stupendous precipices . . . chilled 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


307 


the blood of the beholder.” They were “awfully dread¬ 
ful.” 

Dixon, as well as Cook, mentions the wearing of the 
labret by men, but I still cling to the opinion that they 
could not distinguish a man from a woman, owing to the 
attire. 

Dixon also reported that the natives have a keen sense 
of smell, which they quicken by the use of snakeroot. 
One would naturally have supposed that they would have 
hunted the forests through and through for some herb, 
or some dark charm of witchcraft, that would have 
deprived them utterly and forever of this sense, which is 
so undesirable a possession to the person living or travel¬ 
ling in Alaska. 

The climate of Cook Inlet is more agreeable than that 
of any other part of Alaska. In the low valleys near the 
shore the soil is well adapted to the growing of fruits, 
vegetables, and grain, and to the raising of stock and 
chickens. Good butter and cheese are made, which, with 
eggs, bring excellent prices. Roses and all but the ten- 
derest flowers thrive, and berries grow large and of deli¬ 
cious flavor, bearing abundantly. 

“ Awfully dreadful ” scenes are not to be found. It is 
a pleasure to confess, however, that many features, by 
their beauty, splendor, and sublimity, fill the appreciative 
beholder with awe and reverence. 

The coal deposits of the region surrounding the inlet 
are now known to be numerous and important. Coal is 
found in Kachemak Bay, and Port Graham, at Tyonook, 
and on Matanuska River, about fifty miles inland from 
the head of the inlet. It is lignitic and bituminous, but 
semi-anthracite has been found in the Matanuska Valley. 

Lignitic coals have a very wide distribution, but have 
been, as yet, mined only on Admiralty Island, at Homer 


308 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


and Coal Bay in Cook Inlet, at Chignik and Unga, at 
several points on the Ynkon, and on Seward Peninsula. 

The new railroad now building from Cordova will open 
up not only vast copper districts, but the richest and most 
extensive oil and coal fields in Alaska, as well. 

Semi-anthracite coal exists in commercial quantities, 
so far as yet discovered, only at Comptroller Bay. A 
fine quality of bituminous coal also exists there, extend¬ 
ing inland for twenty-five miles on the northern tribu¬ 
taries of Behring River and about thirty-five miles east 
of Copper River, covering an area of about one hundred 
and twenty square miles. 

Southwestern Alaska includes the Cook Inlet region, 
Kodiak and adjacent islands, Aliaska Peninsula, and the 
Aleutian Islands. Coal, mostly of a lignitic character, 
is widely distributed in all these districts. It has also 
been discovered in different localities in the Sushitna Basin. 

All coal used by the United States government’s naval 
vessels on the Pacific is purchased and transported there 
from the East at enormous expense. Alaska has vast coal 
deposits of an exceedingly fine quality lying undeveloped 
in the Aliaskan Peninsula, two hundred miles farther west 
than Honolulu, and directly on the route of steamers plying 
from this country to the Orient. (It is not generallyknown 
that the smoke of steamers on their way from Puget Sound 
to Japan may be plainly seen on clear da} r s at Unalaska.) 

This coal is in the neighborhood of Portage Bay, where 
there is a good harbor and a coaling station. It is reported 
by geological survey experts to be as fine as Pocahontas 
coal, and even higher in carbon. 

Possibly, in time, the United States government may 
awaken to a realization of the vast fortunes lying hidden 
in the undeveloped, neglected, and even scorned resources 
of Alaska, — not to mention the tremendous advantages of 
being able to coal its war vessels with Pacific Coast coal. 



A Yukon Snow Scene near White Horse 



















































































































































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


309 


During the spring of 1908 the Alaska-coal land situa¬ 
tion was discouraging. A great area of rich coal-bearing 
land had been withdrawn from entry, because of the 
amazing presumption of the interior department that the 
removal of prohibitive restrictions upon entrymen would 
encourage the formation of monopolies in the mining and 
marketing of coal. 

Secretary Garfield at first inclined strongly to the 
opinion that the Alaska coal lands should be held by the 
government for leasing purposes, and that there should 
be a separate reservation for the navy; and he has not 
entirely abandoned this opinion. 

The withdrawal of the coal lands from entry caused the 
Copper River and Northwestern Railway Company to 
discontinue all work on the Katalla branch of the road; 
nor will it resume until the question of title to the coal 
lands is settled and the lands themselves admitted to 
entry. 

The fear of monopolies, which is making the interior 
department uneasy, is said to have arisen from the fact 
that it has been absolutely necessary for several entrymen 
in a coal region to associate themselves together and com¬ 
bine their claims, on account of the enormous expense of 
opening and operating mines in that country. The sur¬ 
veys alone, which, in accordance with an act passed in 
1904, must be borne by the entryman, although this burden 
is not imposed upon entrymen in the states, are_ so ex¬ 
pensive, particularly in the Behring coal-fields near Katalla, 
that an entryman cannot bear it alone; while the expense 
of getting provisions and tools from salt-water into the 
interior is simply prohibitive to most locators, unless they 
can combine and divide the expense. 

These early discoverers and locators acted in good 
faith. The lands were entered as coal lands; there was 
no fraud and no attempt at fraud ; not one person sought 


310 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


to take up coal land as homestead, nor with scrip, nor in 
any fraudulent manner. 

There was some carelessness in the observance of new 
rules and regulations, but there was excuse for this in the 
fact that Alaska is far from Congress and news travels 
slowly; also, it has been the belief of Alaskans that when 
a man, after the infinite labor and deprivation necessary to 
successful prospecting in Alaska, has found anything of 
value on the public domain, he could appropriate it with 
the surety that his right thereto would be recognized and 
respected; and that any slight mistakes that might be 
made technically would be condoned, provided that they 
were honest ones and not made with* the intent to defraud 
the government. 

The oldest coal mine in Alaska is located just within 
the entrance to Cook Inlet, on the western shore, at Coal 
Harbor. There, in the early fifties, the Russians began 
extensive operations, importing experienced German min¬ 
ers to direct a large force of Muscovite laborers sent from 
Sitka, and running their machinery by steam. 

Shafts were sunk, and a drift run into the vein for a 
distance of one thousand seven hundred feet. During a 
period of three years two thousand seven hundred tons 
of coal were mined, but the result was a loss to the enter¬ 
prising Russians. 

Its extent was practically unlimited, but the quality 
was found to be too poor for the use of steamers. 

It is only within the past three years that the fine qual¬ 
ity of much of the coal found in Alaska has been made 
known by government experts. 

It was inconceivable that Congress should hesitate to 
enact such laws as would help to develop Alaska; yet it 
was not until late in the spring that bills were passed which 
greatly relieved the situation and insured the building of 
the road upon which the future of this district depends. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


Cook Inlet is so sheltered and is favored by a climate 
so agreeable that it was called “ Summer-land ” by the 
Russians. 

Across Kachemak Bay from Seldovia is Homer — 
another town of the inlet blessed with a poetic name. 
When I landed at its wharf, in 1905, it was the saddest, 
sweetest place in Alaska. It was but the touching phan¬ 
tom of a town. 

We reached it at sunset of a June day. 

A low, green, narrow spit runs for several miles out 
into the waters of the inlet, bordered by a gravelly beach. 
Here is a railroad running eight miles to the Cook Inlet 
coal-fields, a telephone line, roundhouses, machine-shops, 
engines and cars, a good wharf, some of the best store 
buildings and residences in Alaska, —all painted white with 
soft red roofs, and all deserted ! 

On this low and lovely spit, fronting the divinely blue 
sea and the full glory of the sunset, there was only one 
human being, the postmaster. When the little Dora 
swung lightly into the wharf, this poor lonely soul showed 
a pitiable and pathetic joy at this fleeting touch of com¬ 
panionship. We all went ashore and shook hands with 
him and talked to him. Then we returned to our cabins 
and carried him a share of all our daintiest luxuries. 

When, after fifteen or twenty minutes, the Dora with¬ 
drew slowly into the great Safrano rose of the sunset, 
leaving him, a lonely, gray figure, on the wharf, the look 

311 


812 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


on his face made us turn away, so that we could not see 
one another’s eyes. 

It was like the look of a dog who stands helpless, lonely, 
and cannot follow. 

I have never been able to forget that man. He was so 
gentle, so simple, so genuinely pleased and grateful—and 
so lonely! 

As I write, Homer is once more a town, instead of a 
phantom. 1 no longer picture him alone in those empty, 
echoing, red-roofed buildings; but one of my most vivid 
and tormenting memories of Alaska is of a gray figure, 
with a little pathetic stoop, going up the path from the 
wharf, in the splendor of that June sunset, with his dog at 
his side. 

The Act of 1902, commonly known as the Alaska Game 
Law, defines game, fixes open seasons, restricts the num¬ 
ber which may be killed, declares certain methods of 
hunting unlawful, prohibits the sale of hides, skins, or 
heads at any time, and prohibts export of game animals, or 
birds — except for scientific purposes, for propagation, 
or for trophies — under restrictions prescribed by the 
Department of Agriculture. The law also authorizes the 
Secretary of Agriculture, when such action shall be neces¬ 
sary, to place further restrictions on killing in certain 
regions. The importance of this provision is already ap¬ 
parent. Owing to the fact that nearly all persons who 
go to Alaska to kill big game visit a few easily accessible 
localities — notably Kadiak Island, the Kenai Peninsula, 
and the vicinity of Cook Inlet—it has become necessary 
to protect the game of these localities by special regula¬ 
tions, in order to prevent its speedy destruction. 

The object of the act is to protect the game of the terri¬ 
tory so far as possible from the mere “ killer,” but without 
causing unnecessary hardship. Therefore, Indians, Eskimos, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


313 


miners, or explorers actually in need of food, are per¬ 
mitted to kill game for their immediate use. The excep¬ 
tion in favor of natives, miners, and explorers must be 
construed strictly. It must not be used merely as a pre¬ 
text to kill game out of season, for sport or for market, or 
to supply canneries or settlements ; and, under no circum¬ 
stances, can the hides or heads of animals thus killed be 
lawfully offered for sale. 

Every person who has travelled in Alaska knows that 
these laws are violated daily. An amusing incident oc¬ 
curred on the Dora, on the first morning “to Westward” 
from Seward. Far be it from me to eat anything that is 
forbidden; but I had seen fried moose steak in Seward. 
It resembles slices of pure beef tenderloin, fried. 

It chanced that at our first breakfast on the Dora I 
found fried beef tenderloin on the bill of fare, and or¬ 
dered it. Scarcely had I been served when in came the 
gentleman from Boston, who, through his alert and insati¬ 
able curiosity concerning all things Alaskan and his keen 
desire to experience every possible Alaskan sensation,— 
all with the greatest naivete and good humor,— had 
endeared himself to us all on our long journey together. 

“ What’s that ? ” asked he, briskly, scenting a new 
experience on my plate. 

“ Moose,” said I, sweetly. 

“ Moose — moose ! ” cried he, excitedly, seizing his bill 
of fare. “ I’ll have some. Where is it ? I don’t see it ! ” 

“ Hush-h-h,” said I, sternly. “ It is not on the bill of 
fare. It is out of season.” 

“ Then how shall I get it ? ” he cried, anxiously. “ I 
must have some.” 

“ Tell the waiter to bring you the same that he brought 
me.” 

When the dear, gentle Japanese, “ Charlie,” came to 
serve him, he shamelessly pointed at my plate. 


314 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


“ I’ll have some of that,” said he, mysteriously. 

Charlie bowed, smiled like a seraph, and withdrew, to 
return presently with a piece of beef tenderloin. 

The gentleman from Boston fairly pounced upon it. 
We all watched him expectantly. His expression changed 
from anticipation to satisfaction, delight, rapture. 

“ That’s the most delicious thing I ever ate,” he burst 
forth, presently. 

“ Do you think so ? ” said I. “ Really, I was disap¬ 
pointed. It tastes very much like beefsteak to me.” 

“ Beefsteak ! ” said he, scornfully. “ It tastes no more 
like beefsteak than pie tastes like cabbage ! What a pity 
to waste it on one who cannot appreciate its delicate wild 
flavor! ” 

Months afterward he sent me a marked copy of a Boston 
newspaper, in which he had written enthusiastically of 
the “rare, wild flavor, haunting as a poet’s dream,” of 
the moose which he had eaten on the Dora. 

In addition to the animals commonly regarded as game, 
walrus and brown bear are protected; but existing laws 
relating to the fur-seal, sea-otter, or other fur-bearing 
animals are not affected. The act creates no close sea¬ 
son for black bear, and contains no prohibition against 
the sale or shipment of their skins or heads ; but those 
of brown bear may be shipped only in accordance with 
regulations. 

The Act of 1908 amends the former act as follows: — 

It is unlawful for any person in Alaska to kill any wild 
game, animals, or birds, except during the following sea¬ 
sons: north of latitude sixty-two degrees, brown bear 
may be killed at any time; moose, caribou, sheep, wal¬ 
rus and sea-lions, from August 1 to December 10, inclu¬ 
sive ; south of latitude sixty-two degrees, moose, caribou, 
and mountain sheep, from August 20 to December 31, in¬ 
clusive ; brown bear, from October 1 to July 1, inclusive; 


ALASKA : THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


315 


deer and mountain goats, from August 1 to February 1, 
inclusive ; grouse, ptarmigan, shore birds, and water fowl, 
from September 1 to March 1, inclusive. 

The Secretary of Agriculture is authorized, whenever 
he may deem it necessary for the preservation of game 
animals or birds, to make and publish rules and regula¬ 
tions which shall modify the close seasons established, or 
to provide different close seasons for different parts of 
Alaska, or to place further limitations and restrictions 
on the killing of such animals or birds in any given lo¬ 
cality, or to prohibit killing entirely for a period not 
exceeding two years in such locality. 

It is unlawful for any person at any time to kill any 
females or yearlings of moose, or for any one person to 
kill in one year more than the number specified of each 
of the following game animals : Two moose, one walrus 
or sea-lion, three caribou, sheep, or large brown bear ; 
or to kill or have in his possession in any one day more 
than twenty-five grouse or ptarmigan, or twenty-five shore 
birds or water fowl. 

The killing of caribou on the Kenai Peninsula is pro¬ 
hibited until August 20, 1912. 

It is unlawful for any non-resident of Alaska to hunt 
any of the protected game animals, except deer and goats, 
without first obtaining a hunting license; or to hunt on 
the Kenai Peninsula without a registered guide, such 
license not being transferable and valid only during the 
year of issue. The fee for this license is fifty dollars to 
citizens of the United States, and one hundred dollars to 
foreigners; it is accompanied by coupons authorizing the 
shipment of two moose, — if killed north of sixty-two 
degrees, — four deer, three caribou, sheep, goats, brown 
bear, or any part of said animals. A resident of Alaska 
may ship heads or trophies by obtaining a shipping license 
for this purpose. A fee of forty dollars permits the ship- 


316 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


ment of heads or trophies as follows: one moose, if killed 
north of sixty-two degrees ; four deer, two caribou, two 
sheep, goats, or brown bear. A fee of ten dollars permits 
the shipment of a single head or trophy of caribou or 
sheep; and one of five, that of goat, deer, or brown bear. 
It costs just one hundred and fifty dollars to ship any part 
of a moose killed south of sixty-two degrees. Further¬ 
more, before any trophy may be shipped from Alaska, the 
person desiring to make such shipment shall first make 
and file with the customs office of the port where the ship¬ 
ment is to be made, an affidavit to the effect that he has 
not violated any of the provisions of this act; that the 
trophy has been neither bought nor sold, and is not to be 
shipped for sale, and that he is the owner thereof. 

The Governor of Alaska, in issuing a license, requires 
the applicant to state whether the trophies are to be 
shipped through the ports of entry of Seattle, Portland, or 
San Francisco, and he notifies the collector at the given 
port as to the name of the license holder, and name and 
address of the consignee. 

After reading these rigid laws, I cannot help wondering 
whether the Secretary of Agriculture ever saw an Alaskan 
mountain sheep. If he has seen one and should unex¬ 
pectedly Come across some poor wretch smuggling the 
head of one out of Alaska, he would —unless his heart is 
as hard as “ stun-cancer,” as an old lady once said — just 
turn his eyes in another direction and refuse to see what 
was not meant for his vision. 

The Alaskan sheep does not resemble those of Montana 
and other sheep countries. It is more delicate and far 
more beautiful. There is a deerlike grace in the poise of 
its head, a fine and sensitive outline to nostril and mouth, a 
tenderness in the great dark eyes, that is at once startled 
and appealing; while thb wide, graceful sweep of the horns 
is unrivalled. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


317 


The head of the moose, as well as of the caribou, is impos¬ 
ing, but coarse and ugly. The antlers of the delicate¬ 
headed deer are pretty, but lack the power of the horns of 
the Alaskan sheep. The Montana sheep’s head is almost 
as coarse as that of the moose. The dainty ears and 
soft-colored hair of the Alaskan sheep are fawnlike. 
From the Alaska Central trains near Lake Kenai, the 
sheep may be seen feeding on the mountain that has been 
named for them. 

Cape Douglas, at the entrance to Cook Inlet, is the ad¬ 
miration of* all save the careful navigator who usually at 
this point meets such distressing winds and tides that he 
has no time to devote to the contemplation of scenery. 

This noble promontory thrusts itself boldly out into the 
sea fora distance of about three miles, where it sinks sheer 
for a thousand feet to the pale green surf that breaks ever¬ 
lastingly upon it. It is far more striking and imposing 
than the more famous Cape Elizabeth on the eastern side 
of the entrance to the inlet. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


The heavy forestation of the Northwest Coast ceases 
finally at the Kenai Peninsula. Kadiak Island is sparsely 
wooded in sylvan groves, with green slopes and valle}^s 
between; but the islands lying beyond are bare of trees. 
Sometimes a low, shrubby willow growth is seen; but for 
the most part the thousands of islands are covered in 
summer with grasses and mosses, which, drenched by fre¬ 
quent mists and rain, are of a brilliant and dazzling green. 

The Aleutian Islands drift out, one after another, 
toward the coast of Asia, like an emerald rosary on the 
blue breast of Behring Sea. The only tree in the Aleutian 
Islands is a stunted evergreen growing at the gate of a 
residence in Unalaska, on the island of the same name. 

The prevailing atmospheric color of Alaska is a kind of 
misty, rosy lavender, enchantingly blended from different 
shades of violet, rose, silver, azure, gold, and green. The 
water coloring changes hourly. One passes from a narrow 
channel whose waters are of the most delicate green into a 
wider reach of the palest blue; and from this into a gulf 
of sun-flepked purple. 

The % summer voyage out among the Aleutian Islands is 
lovely beyond all description. It is a sweet, dreamlike 
drifting through a water world of rose and lavender, along 
the pale green velvety hills of the islands. There are no 
adjectives that will clearly describe this greenness to one 
who has not seen it. It is at once so soft and so vivid; 
it flames out like the dazzling green fire of an emerald, and 
pales to the lighter green of the chrysophrase. 

318 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 319 

Marvellous sunset effects are frequently seen on these 
waters. There was one which we saw in broad gulfs, 
which gathered in a point on the purple water about 
nine o’clock. Every color and shade of color burned 
in this point, like a superb fire opal; and from it were 
flung rays of different coloring — so far, so close, so 
mistily brilliant, and so tremulously ethereal, that in 
shape and fabric it resembled a vast thistle-down blow¬ 
ing before us on the water. Often we sailed directly 
into it and its fragile color needles were shattered and 
fell about us; but immediately another formed farther 
ahead, and trembled and throbbed until it, too, was 
overtaken and shattered before our eyes. 

At other times the sunset sank over us, about us, 
and upon us, like a cloud of gold and scarlet dust that 
is scented with coming rain; but of all the different 
sunset effects that are but memories now, the most un¬ 
usual was a great mist of brilliant, vivid green just 
touched with fire, that went marching down the wide 
straits of Shelikoff late one night in June. 

Early on the morning after leaving Cook Inlet, the 
“ early-decker ” will find the Dora steaming lightly 
past Afognak Island through the narrow channel sepa¬ 
rating it from Marmot Island. This was the most sil¬ 
very, divinely blue stretch of water I saw in Alaska, 
with the exception of Behring Sea. The morning that 
we sailed into Marmot Bay was an exceptionally suave 
one in June; and the color of the water may have 
been due to the softness of the day. 

We had passed Sea Lion Rocks, where hundreds of 
these animals lie upon the rocky shelves, with lifted, 
narrow heads, moving nervously from side to side in 
serpent fashion, and whom a boat’s whistle sends plung¬ 
ing headlong into the sea. 

The southern point of Marmot Island is the Cape St. 


320 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Hermogenes of Behring, a name that has been perpetu¬ 
ated to this day. The steamer passes between it and 
Pillar Point, and at one o’clock of the same day through 
the winding, islanded harbor of Kadiak. 

This settlement is on the island that won the heart 
of John Burroughs when he visited it with the famous 
Harriman Expedition — the Island of Kadiak. 

I voyaged with a pilot who had accompanied the ex¬ 
pedition. 

“Those scientists, now,” he said, musingly, one day 
as he paced the bridge, with his hands behind him. 
“ They were a real study for a fellow like me. The 
genuine big-bugs in that party were the finest gentle¬ 
men you ever saw; but the little-bugs — say, they put 
on more dog than a bogus prince! They were always 
demanding something they couldn’t get and acting as 
if they was afraid somebody might think they didn’t 
amount to anything. An officer on a ship can always 
tell a gentleman in two minutes—his wants are so few 
and his tastes so simple. John Burroughs? Oh, say, 
every man on the ship liked Mr. Burroughs. I don’t 
know as you’d ought to call him a gentleman. You 
see, gentlemen live on earth, and he was way up 
above the earth — in the clouds, you know. He’d look 
right through you with the sweetest eyes, and never 
see you. But flowers — well, Jeff Davis! Mr. Bur¬ 
roughs could see a flower half a mile away ! You could 
talk to him all day, and he wouldn’t hear a word you 
said to him, any more than if he was deef as a post. 
I thought he was, the’longest while. But Jeff Davis! 
just let a bird sing on shore when we were sailing 
along close. His deefness wasn’t particularly noticeable 
then! . . . He’d go ashore and dawdle ’way off from 
everybody else, and come back with his arms full of 
flowers.” 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


321 


Mr. Burroughs was charmed with the sylvan beauty 
of Kadiak Island; its pale blue, cloud-dappled skies and 
deep blue, islanded seas; its narrow, winding water¬ 
ways ; its dimpled hills, silvery streams, and wooded 
dells; its acres upon acres of flowers of every variety, 
hue and size; its vivid green, grassy, and mossy slopes, 
crests, and meadows; its delightful air and singing birds. 

He was equally charmed with Wood Island, which is 
only fifteen minutes’ row from Kadiak, and spent much 
time in its melodious dells, turning his back upon both 
islands with reluctance, and afterward writing of them 
appreciative words which their people treasure in their 
hearts and proudly quote to the stranger who reaches 
those lovely shores. 

The name Kadiak was originally Kaniag, the natives 
calling themselves Kaniagists or Kaniagmuts. The is¬ 
land was discovered in 1763, by Stephen Glottoff. 

His reception by the natives was not of a nature to 
warm the cockles of his heart. They approached in 
their skin-boats, but his godson, Ivan Glottoff, a young 
Aleut interpreter, could not make them understand him, 
and they fled in apparent fear. 

Some days later they returned with an Aleutian boy 
whom they had captured in a conflict with the natives 
of the Island of Sannakh, and he served as interpreter. 

The natives of Kadiak differ greatly from those of 
the Aleutian Islands, notwithstanding the fact that the 
islands drift into one another. 

The Kadiaks were more intelligent and ambitious, and 
of much finer appearance, than the Aleutians. 

They were of a fiercer and more warlike nature, and 
refused to meet the friendly advances of Glottoff. The 
latter, therefore, kept at some distance from the shore, 
and a watch was set night and day. 


322 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Nevertheless, the Kadiaks made an early-morning at¬ 
tack, firing upon the watches with arrows and attempt¬ 
ing to set fire to the ship. They fled in the wildest 
disorder upon the discharge of firearms, scattering in 
their flight ludicrous ladders, dried moss, and other ma¬ 
terials with which they had expected to destroy the ship. 

Within four days they made another attack, provided 
with wooden shields to ward off the musket-balls. 

They were again driven to the shore. At the end of 
three weeks they made a third and last attack, protected 
by immense breastworks, over which they cast spears and 
arrows upon the decks. 

As these shields appeared to be bullet-proof and the 
natives continued to advance, Glottoff landed a body of 
men and made a fierce attack, which had the desired 
effect. The savages dropped their shields and fled from 
the neighborhood. 

When Yon H. J. Holmberg was on the island, he per¬ 
suaded an old native to dictate a narrative to an in¬ 
terpreter, concerning the arrival of the first ship—which 
was undoubtedly Glottoff’s. This narrative is of poignant 
interest, presenting, as it does, so simply and so eloquently, 
the “other” point of view—that of the first inhabitant of 
the country, which we so seldom hear. For this reason, 
and for the charm of its style, I reproduce it in part: — 

“ I was a boy of nine or ten years, for I was already set 
to paddle a bidarka, when the first Russian ship, with two 
masts, appeared near Cape Aleulik. Before that time we 
had never seen a ship. We had intercourse with the Ag- 
legnutes, of the Aliaska Peninsula, with the Tnaianas of 
the Kenai Peninsula, and with the Ivoloshes, of south¬ 
eastern Alaska. Some wise men even knew something of 
the Californias; but of white men and their ships we knew 
nothing. 

“ The ship looked like a great whale at a distance. We 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


323 


went out to sea in our bidarkas, but we soon found that it 
was no whale, but another unknown monster of which we 
were afraid, and the smell of which made us sick.” 

(In all literature and history and real life, I know of 
no single touch of unintentional humor so entirely deli¬ 
cious as this: that any odor could make an Alaskan na¬ 
tive, of any locality or tribe, sick; and of all things, an 
odor connected with a white person! It appears that in 
more ways than one this old native’s story is of value.) 

“ The people on the ship had buttons on their clothes, 
and at first we thought they must be cuttle-fish.” (More 
unintentional, and almost as delicious, humor!) “ But 

when we saw them put fire into their mouths and blow 
out smoke we knew that they must be devils .” 

(Did any early navigator ever make a neater criticism 
of the natives than these innocent ones of the first white 
visitors to their shores?) 

“ The ship sailed by . . . into Kaniat, or Alitak, Bay, 
where it anchored. We followed, full of fear, and at the 
same time curious to see what would become of the strange 
apparition, but we did not dare to approach the ship. 

“ Among our people was a brave warrior named Ishinik, 
who was so bold that he feared nothing in the world; he 
undertook to visit the ship, and came back with presents 
in his hand, — a red shirt, an Aleut hood, and some glass 
beads.” (Glottoff describes this visit, and the gifts 
bestowed.) 

“He said there was nothing to fear; that they only 
wished to buy sea-otter skins, and to give us glass beads 
and other riches for them. We did not fully believe this 
statement. The old and wise people held a council. 
Some thought the strangers might bring us sickness. 

“ Our people formerly were at war with the Fox Island 
people. My father once made a raid on Unalaska and 
brought back, among other booty, a little girl left by her 


324 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


fleeing people. As a prisoner taken in war, she was our 
slave, but my father treated her like a daughter, and 
brought her up with his own children. We called her 
Plioo, which means ashes, because she was taken from 
the ashes of her home. On the Russian ship which came 
from Unalaska were many Aleuts, and among them the 
father of our slave. He came to my father’s house, and 
when he found that his daughter was not kept like a slave, 
but was well cared for, he told him confidentially, out of 
gratitude, that the Russians would take the sea-otter 
skins without payment, if they could. 

“This warning saved my father. The Russians came 
ashore with the Aleuts, and the latter persuaded our peo¬ 
ple to trade, saying, 4 Why are you afraid of the Russians ? 
Look at us. We live with them, and they do us no harm.’ 

“ Our people, dazzled by the sight of such quantities of 
goods, left their weapons in the bidarkas and went to the 
Russians with the sea-otter skins. While they were busy 
trading, the Aleuts, who carried arms concealed about 
them, at a signal from the Russians, fell upon our people, 
killing about thirty and taking away their sea-otter skins. 
A few men had cautiously watched the result of the first 
intercourse from a distance — among them my father.” 
(The poor fellow told this proudly, not understanding 
that he thus confessed a shameful and cowardly act on 
his father’s part.) 

44 These attempted to escape in their bidarkas, but they 
were overtaken by the Aleuts and killed. My father 
alone was saved by the father of his slave, who gave him 
his bidarka when my father’s own had been pierced by 
arrows and was sinking. 

44 In this he fled to Akhiok. My father’s name was 
Penashigak. The time of the arrival of this ship was 
August, as the whales were coming into the bays, and 
the berries were ripe. 




























































» 



Photo by J. Doody, Dawson 


A Home in the Yukon 




















ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


325 


“ The Russians remained for the winter, but could not 
find sufficient food in Kaniat Bay. They were compelled 
to leave the ship in charge of a few watchmen and moved 
into a bay opposite Aiakhtalik Island. Here was a lake 
full of herrings and a kind of smelt. They lived in tents 
through the winter. The brave Ishinik, who first dared 
to visit the ship, was liked by the Russians, and acted as 
mediator. When the fish decreased in the lake during 
the winter, the Russians moved about from place to place. 
Whenever we saw a boat coming, at a distance, we fled to 
the hills, and when we returned, no dried fish could be 
found in the houses. 

“In the lake near the Russian camp there was a poison¬ 
ous kind of starfish. We knew it very well, but said 
nothing about it to the Russians. We never ate them, 
and even the gulls would not touch them. Many Rus¬ 
sians died from eating them. We injured them, also, 
in other ways. They put up fox-traps, and we removed 
them for the sake of obtaining the iron material. The 
Russians left during the following year.” 

This native’s name was Arsenti Aminak. There are 
several slight discrepancies between his narrative and 
Glottoff’s account, especially as to time. He does not 
mention the hostile attacks of his people upon the Rus¬ 
sians ; and these differences puzzle Bancroft and make 
him sceptical concerning the veracity of the native’s 
account. 

It is barely possible, however, that Glottoff imagined 
these attacks, as an excuse for his own merciless slaughter 
of the Kadiaks. 

As to the discrepancy in time, it must be remembered 
that Arsenti Aminak was an old man when he related the 
events which had occurred when he was a young lad of 
nine or ten. White lads of that age are not possessed of 
vivid memories ; and possibly the little brown lad, just 


326 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

“ set to paddle a bidarka,” was not more brilliant than his 
white brothers. 

It is wiser to trust the word of the early native than 
that of the early navigator—with a few illustrious excep¬ 
tions. 

Kadiak is the second in size of Alaskan islands,— 
Prince of Wales Island in southeastern Alaska being 
slightly larger,—and no island, unless it be Baranoff, is 
of more historic interest and charm. It was from this 
island that Gregory Shelikoff and his capable wife directed 
the vast and profitable enterprises of the Shelikoff Com¬ 
pany, having finally succeeded, in 1784, in making the 
first permanent Russian settlement in America at Three 
Saints Bay, on the southeastern coast of this island. 
Barracks, offices, counting-houses, storehouses, and shops 
of various kinds were built, and the settlement was 
guarded against native attack by two armed vessels. 

It was here that the first missionary establishment and 
school of the Northwest Coast of America were located ; 
and here was built the first great warehouse of logs. 

Shelikoff’s welcome from the fierce Kadiaks, in 1784, 
was not more cordial than Glottoff’s had been. His ships 
were repeatedly attacked, and it was not until he had fired 
upon them, causing great loss of life and general conster¬ 
nation among them, that he obtained possession of the 
harbor. 

Shelikoff lost no time in preparing for permanent occu¬ 
pancy of the island. Dwellings and fortifications were 
erected. His own residence was furnished with all the 
comforts and luxuries of civilization, which he collected 
from his ships, for the purpose of inspiring the natives 
with respect for a superior mode of living. They watched 
the construction of buildings with great curiosity, and at 
last volunteered their own services in the work. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Wl 


Shelikoff personally conducted a school, endeavoring to 
teach both children and adults the Russian language and 
arithmetic, as well as religion. 

In 1T96 Father Juvenal, a young Russian priest who 
had been sent to the colonies as a missionary, wrote as 
follows concerning his work : — 

“With the help of God, a school was opened to-day at 
this place, the first since the attempt of the late Mr. Sheli¬ 
koff to instruct the natives of this neighborhood. Eleven 
boys and several grown men were in attendance. When 
I read prayers they seemed very attentive, and were 
evidently deeply impressed, although they did not under¬ 
stand the language. . . . When school was closed, I 
went to the river with my boys, and with the help of Grod ” 
(the italics are mine) “ we caught one hundred and 
three salmon of large size.” 

The school prospered and was giving entire satisfaction 
when Baranoff transferred Father Juvenal to Iliamna, on 
Cook Inlet. 

We now come to what has long appealed to me as the 
most tragic and heart-breaking story of all Alaska — the 
story of Father Juvenal’s betrayal and death at Iliamna. 

Of his last Sabbath’s work at Three Saints, Father Ju¬ 
venal wrote: — 

“We had a very solemn and impressive service this 
morning. Mr. Baranoff and officers and sailors from the 
ship attended, and also a large number of natives. We 
had fine singing, and a congregation with great outward 
appearance of devotion. I could not help but marvel at 
Alexander Alexandreievitch (Baranoff), who stood there 
and listened, crossing himself and giving the responses at 
the proper time, and joined in the singing with the same 
hoarse voice with which he was shouting obscene songs 
the night before, when I saw him in the midst of a 
drunken carousal with a woman seated on his lap. I dis* 


328 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


pensed with services in the afternoon, because the traders 
were drunk again, and might have disturbed us and dis- 
gusted the natives.” 

Father Juvenal’s pupils were removed to Pavlovsk and 
placed under the care of Father German, who had recently 
opened a school there. 

The priestly missionaries were treated with scant cour¬ 
tesy by Baranoff, and ceaseless and bitter were the com¬ 
plaints they made against him. On the voyage to Iliamna, 
Father Juvenal complains that he was compelled to sleep 
in the hold of the brigantine Catherine , between bales of 
goods and piles of dried fish, because the cabin was occupied 
by Baranoff and his party. 

In his foul quarters, by the light of a dismal lantern, 
he wrote a portion of his famous journal, which has be¬ 
come a most precious human document, unable to sleep 
on account of the ribald songs and drunken revelry of 
the cabin. 

He claims to have been constantly insulted and humili¬ 
ated by Baranoff during the brief voyage; and finally, at 
Pavlovsk, he was told that he must depend upon bidarkas 
for the remainder of the voyage to the Gulf of Kenai; 
and after that to the robbers and murderers of the Lebe- 
def Company. 

The vicissitudes, insults, and actual suffering of the voy¬ 
age are vividly set forth in his journal. It was the 16th 
of July when he left Kadiak and the 3d of September 
when he finally reached Iliamna — having journeyed by 
barkentine to Pavlovsk, by bidarka from island to island 
and to Cook Inlet, and over the mountains on foot. 

He was hospitably received by Shakmut, the chief, who 
took him into his own house and promised to build one 
especially for him. A boy named Nikita, who had been 
a hostage with the Russians, acted as interpreter, and was 
later presented to Father Juvenal. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


329 


This young missionary seems to have been more zealous 
than diplomatic. Immediately upon discovering that the 
boy had never been baptized, he performed that ceremony, 
to the astonishment of the natives, who considered it some 
dark practice of witchcraft. 

Juvenal relates with great naivete that a pretty young 
woman asked to have the same ceremony performed upon 
her, that she, too, might live in the same house with the 
young priest. 

The most powerful shock that he received, however, 
before the one that led to his death, he relates in the fol¬ 
lowing simple language, under date of September 5, two 
days after his arrival: — 

“ It will be a relief to get away from the crowded house 
of the chief, where persons of all ages and sexes mingle 
without any regard to decency or morals. To my utter 
astonishment, Shakmut asked me last night to share the 
couch of one of his wives. He has three or four. I sup¬ 
pose such abomination is the custom of the country, and 
he intended no insult. God gave me grace to over¬ 
come my indignation, and to decline the offer in a friendly 
and dignified manner. My first duty, when I have some¬ 
what mastered the language, shall be to preach against 
such wicked practices, but I could not touch upon such 
subjects through a boy interpreter.” 

The severe young priest carried out his intentions so 
zealously that the chief and his friends were offended. 
He commanded them to put away all their wives but 
one. 

They had marvelled at his celibacy; but they felt, with 
the rigid justice of the savage, that, if absolutely sincere, 
he was entitled to their respect. 

However, they doubted his sincerity, and plotted to 
satisfy their curiosity upon this point. A young Iliamna 
girl was bribed to conceal herself in his room. Awaking 


330 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

in the middle of the night and finding himself in her arms, 
the young priest was unable to overcome temptation. 

In the morning he was overwhelmed with remorse and 
a sense of his disgrace. He remembered how haughtily 
he had spurned Shakmut’s offer of peculiar hospitality, 
and how mercilessly he had criticised Baranoff for his 
immoral carousals. Remembering these things, as well 
as the ease with which his own downfall had been ac¬ 
complished, he was overcome with shame. 

“ What a terrible blow this is to all my recent hopes ! ” 
he wrote, in his pathetic account of the affair in his 
journal. “ As soon as I regained my senses, I drove the 
woman out, but I felt too guilty to be very harsh with 
her. How can I hold up my head among the people, who, 
of course, will hear of this affair ? . . . God is my witness 
that I have set down the truth here in the face of any¬ 
thing that may be said about it hereafter. I have kept 
myself secluded to-day from everybody. I have not yet 
the strength to face the world.” 

When Juvenal did face the small world of Iliamna, it 
was to be openly ridiculed and insulted by all. Young 
girls tittered when he went by ; his own boys, whom he 
had taught and baptized, mocked him ; a girl put her 
head into his room when he was engaged in fastening a 
heavy bar upon his door, and laughed in his face. Shak- 
mut came and insisted that Juvenal should baptize his 
several wives the following Sunday. This he had been 
steadily refusing to do, so long as they lived in daily sin ; 
but now, disgraced, broken in spirit, and no longer able 
to say, “ I am holier than thou,” he wearily consented. 

“ I shall not shrink from my duty to make him relin¬ 
quish all but one wife, however,” he wrote, with a last 
flash of his old spirit, “ when the proper time arrives. If 
I wink at polygamy now, I shall be forever unable to 
combat it. Perhaps it is only my imagination, but I 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


331 


think I can discover a lack of respect in Nikita’s behavior 
toward me since yesterday. . . . My disgrace has become 
public already, and I am laughed at wherever I go, espe¬ 
cially by the women. Of course, they do not understand 
the sin, but rather look upon it as a good joke. It will 
require great firmness on my part to regain the respect I 
have lost for myself, as well as on behalf of the Church. 
I have vowed to burn no fuel in my bedroom during the 
entire winter, in order to chastise my body — a mild pun¬ 
ishment, indeed, compared to the blackness of my sin.” 

The following day was the Sabbath. It was with a 
heavy heart that he baptized Katiewah, the brother of the 
chief, and his family, the three wives of the chief, seven 
children, and one aged couple. 

The same evening he called on the chief and surprised 
him in a wild carousal with his wives, in which he was 
jeeringly invited to join. 

Forgetting his disgrace and his loss of the right to con¬ 
demn for sins not so black as his own, the enraged young 
priest vigorously denounced them, and told the chief that 
he must marry one of the women according to the rites of 
the Church and put away the others, or be forever damned. 
The chief, equally enraged, ordered him out of the house. 
On his way home he met Katie wah, who reproached him 
because his religious teachings had not benefited Shakmut, 
who was as immoral as ever. 

The end was now rapidly approaching. On September 
29, less than a month after his arrival, he wrot? : “The 
chief and his brother have both been here this morning 
and abused me shamefully. Their language I could not 
understand, but they spat in my face and, wiiat was 
worse, upon the sacred images on the walls. Katlewah 
seized my vestments and carried them off, and I was left 
bleeding from a blow struck by an ivory club. Nikita 
has washed and bandaged my wounds ; but from his anx- 


332 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


ious manner I can see that I am still in danger. The other 
boys have run away. My wound pains me so that I can 
scarcely—” 

The rest is silence. Nikita, who escaped with Juvenal’s 
journal and papers and delivered them to the revered and 
beloved Veniaminoff, relates that the young priest was 
here fallen upon and stabbed to death by his enemies. 

Many different versions of this pathetic tragedy are given. 
I have chosen Bancroft’s because he seems to have gone 
more deeply and painstakingly into the small details that 
add the touch of human interest than any other historian. 

The vital interest of the story, however, lies in what no 
one has told, and what, therefore, no one but the romancer 
can ever tell. 

It lies between the written lines ; it lies in the imagina¬ 
tion of this austere young priest’s remorseful suffering for 
his sin. There is no sign that he realized — too late, as 
usual — his first sin of intolerant criticism and condemna¬ 
tion of the sins of others. But neither did he spare him¬ 
self, nor shrink from the terrible results of his downfall, so 
unexpected in his lofty and almost flaunting virtue. He 
was ready, and eager, to chastise his flesh to atone for his 
sin; and probably only one who has spent a winter in 
Alaska could comprehend fully the hourly suffering that 
would result from a total renouncement of fuel for the 
long, dark period of winter. 

Veniaminoff was of the opinion that the assassination 
was caused not so much by his preaching against polygamy 
as by the fact that the chiefs, having given him their chil¬ 
dren to educate at Kadiak, repented of their action, and 
being unable to recover them, turned against him and slew 
him as a deceiver, in their ignorance. During the fatal 
attack upon him, it is said, Juvenal never thought of flight or 
self-defence, but surrendered himself into their hands with¬ 
out resistance, asking only for mercy for his companions. 


CHAPTER XXX 


In 1792 Baranoff having risen to the command of 
the Shelikoff-Golikoff Company, decided to transfer the 
settlement of Three Saints to the northern end of the 
island, as a more central location for the distribution of 
supplies. To-day only a few crumbling ruins remain to 
mark the site of the first Russian settlement in America 
— an event of such vital historic interest to the United 
States that a monument should be erected there by this 
country. 

The new settlement was named St. Paul, and was 
situated on Pavlovsk Bay, the present site of Kadiak. 
The great warehouse, built of logs, and other ancient 
buildings still remain. 

It was during the year of Father Juvenal’s death — 
1796 — that the first Russo-Greek church was erected 
at St. Paul. It was about this time that the conversion 
of twelve thousand natives in the colonies was reported 
by Father Jossaph. This amazing statement could only 
have been made after one of BaranofFs banquets — to 
which the astute governor, desiring that a favorable 
report should be sent to St. Petersburg, doubtless bade 
the half-starved priest. 

For the Russian-American Company the Kadiaks and 
Aleuts were obliged to hunt and work, at the will of the 
officers, and to sell all their furs to the company, at 
prices established by the latter. 

333 


334 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Baranoff, for a time after becoming Chief Director, 
resided in Kodiak. All persons and affairs in the colonies 
were under his control; his authority was absolute, his 
decision final, unless appeal was made to the Directory 
at Irkutsk; and it was almost impossible for an appeal 
to reach Irkutsk. 

To-day in Kodiak, as in Sitka, the old and the new 
mingle. Some of the old sod-houses remain, and many 
that were built of logs; but the majority of the dwellings 
are modern frame structures, painted white and present¬ 
ing a neat appearance, in striking contrast to many of 
the settlements of Alaska where natives reside. 

The Greek-Russian church shines white and attractive 
against the green background of the hill. It is sur¬ 
rounded by a white fence and is shaded by trees. 

I called at the priest’s residence and was hospitably 
received by his wife, an intelligent, dark-eyed native 
woman. The interior of the church is interesting, but 
lacks the charm and rich furnishings of the one at Sitka. 
There is a chime of bells in the steeple ; and both steeple 
and dome are surmounted by the peculiar Greek-Russian 
cross which is everywhere seen in Alaska. It has two 
short transverse bars, crossing the vertical shaft, one above 
and one below the main transverse bar, the lower always 
slanting. 

The natives of Kodiak are more highly civilized than 
in other parts of Alaska. The offspring of Russian 
fathers and native mothers have frequently married into 
white or half-breed families, and the strain of dark blood 
in. the offspring of these later marriages is difficult to 
discern. 

I travelled on the Bora with a woman whose father 
had been a Russian priest, married to a native woman 
at Belkoffski. She had been sent to California for a 
number of years, and returning, a graduate of a normal 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


335 


school, had married a Russian. She had a comfortable, 
well-furnished home, and her husband appeared extremely 
fond and proud of her. Pier children were as white as 
any Russian I have ever seen. 

A Russian priest must marry once ; but if his wife 
dies, he cannot marry again. 

This law fills my soul with an unholy delight. It 
persuades a man to appreciate his wife’s virtues and to 
condone her faults. Whatever may be her sins in sight 
of him and heaven, she is the only one, so far as he is 
concerned. It must be she, or nobody, to the end of his 
days. She may fill his soul with rage, but he may not 
even relieve his feelings by killing her. 

The result of this unique religious law is that Russian 
priests are uncommonly kind and indulgent to their wives. 

44 Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” said one who was on the 
Dora , in answer to a question, 44 1 have a wife. She 
lives in Paris, where my daughter is receiving her educa¬ 
tion. I am going this year to visit them. Yes, yes, yes.” 

However, with all the petting and indulgence which 
the Russian priest lavishes upon his wife, if what I heard 
be true, —that he is permitted neither to cut nor to 
wash his hair and beard, — God wot she is welcome to 
him. 

The old graveyard on the hill above Kodiak tempts 
the visitor, and one may loiter among the old, neglected 
graves with no fear of snakes in the tall, thick grasses. 

At first, a woman receives the statement that there are 
no snakes in Alaska with open suspicion. It has the 
sound of an Alaskan joke. 

When I first heard it, I was unimpressed. We were 
nearing a fine field of red-top, already waist-high, and 
I waited for the gentleman from Boston, who believed 
everything he heard, and imagined far more, to go 
prancing innocently through the field. 


836 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


He went — unhesitatingly, joyously; giving praise to 
God for his blessings — as, he vowed, he loved to ramble 
through deep grass, yet would rather meet a hippopota¬ 
mus alone in a mire than a garter-snake five inches long. 
The field was the snakiest-looking place imaginable, and 
when he had passed safely through, I began to have faith 
in the Alaskan snake story. 

The climate of Kadiak Island is delightful. The island 
is so situated that it is fully exposed to the equalizing 
influences of the Pacific. The mean annual temperature 
is four degrees lower than at Sitka, and there is twenty 
per cent less rainfall. 

The coast of Alaska is noted for its rainfall and cloudy 
weather. Its precipitation is to be compared only to that 
of the coast of British Columbia, Washington, and Ore¬ 
gon ; and it will surprise many people to learn that it is 
exceeded in the latter district. 

The heaviest annual rainfall occurs at Nutchek, with a 
decided drop to Fort Tongass ; then, Orca, Juneau, Sitka, 
and Fort Liscum. Fort Wrangell, Killisnoo, and Kodiak 
stand next; while Tyonok, Skaguay, and Kenai record 
only from fifteen to twenty-five inches. 

Kadiak Island is a hundred miles long by about forty 
in width. Its relief is comparatively low — from three to 
five thousand feet — and it has many broad, open valleys, 
gently rounded slopes, and wooded dells. 

Lisiansky was told that the Kadiak group of islands 
was once separated from the Aliaska Peninsula by the 
tiniest ribbon of water. An immense otter, in attempt¬ 
ing to swim through this pass, was caught fast and could 
not extricate itself. Its desperate struggles for freedom 
widened the pass into the broad sweep of water now 
known as the Straits of Shelikoff, and pushed the islands 
out to their present position. This legend strengthens 
the general belief that the islands were once a part of the 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


337 


peninsula, having been separated therefrom by one of the 
mighty upheavals, with its attendant depression, which 
are constantly taking place. 

A native myth is that the original inhabitants were 
descended from a dog. Another legend is to the effect 
that the daughter of a great chief north of the peninsula 
married a dog and was banished with her dog-husband and 
whelps. The dog tried to swim back, but was drowned, 
hi& pups then falling upon the old chief and, having torn 
him to pieces, reigning in his stead. 

In 1791 Shelikoff reported the population of Kadiak 
Island to be fifty thousand, the exaggeration being for 
the purpose of enhancing the value of his operations. In 
1795 the first actual census of Kadiak showed eighteen 
hundred adult native males, and about the same number 
of females. To-day there are probably not five hundred. 

I have visited Kadiak Island in June and in July. On 
both occasions the weather was perfect. Clouds that 
were like broken columns of pearl pushed languorously 
up through the misty gold of the atmosphere; the long 
slopes of the hillside were vividly green in the higher 
lights, but sank to the soft dark of dells and hollows ; 
here and there shone out acres of brilliant bloom. 

To one climbing the hill behind the village, island be¬ 
yond island drifted into view, with blue water-ways wind¬ 
ing through velvety labyrinths of green; and, beyond all, 
the strong, limitless sweep of the ocean. The winds 
were but the softest zephyrs, touching the face and hair 
like rose petals, or other delicate, visible things; and, the 
air was fragrant with things that grow day and night and 
that fling their splendor forth in one riotous rush of 
bloom. Shaken through and through their perfume was 
that thrilling, indescribable sweetness which abides in 
vast spaces where snow mountains glimmer and the opal¬ 
ine palisades of glaciers shine. 


338 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


It is a view to quicken the blood, and to inspire an 
American to give silent thanks to God that this rich and 
peerlessly beautiful country is ours. 

After the transfer, the village of Kodiak was the head¬ 
quarters of the Alaska Commercial Company and the 
Western Fur and Trading Company. The former com¬ 
pany still maintains stores and warehouses at this point. 
The house in which the manager resides occupies a com¬ 
manding site above the bay. It is historic and commodi¬ 
ous, and large house-parties are entertained with lavish 
hospitality by Mr. and Mrs. Goss, visitors gathering there 
from adjacent islands and settlements. 

There are dances, “when the boats are in,” in which 
the civilized native girls join with a kind of repressed joy 
that reminds one of New England. They dress well and 
dance gracefully. Their soft, dark glances over their 
partners’ shoulders haunt even a woman dreamily. A 
century’s silently and gently borne wrongs smoulder now 
and then in the deep eyes of some beautiful, dark-skinned 
girl. 

Kodiak is clean. One can stand on the hills and 
breathe. 

For several years after the transfer a garrison of United 
States troops was stationed there. Bridges were built 
across the streams that flow down through the town, and 
culverts to drain the marshes. Many of these improve¬ 
ments have been carelessly destroyed with the passing of 
the years, but their early influence remains. 

So charming and so idyllic did this island seem to the 
Russians that it was with extreme reluctance they moved 
their capital to Sitka when the change was considered 
necessary. 

We were rowed by native boys across the satiny chan¬ 
nel to Wood Island, where Reverend C. P. Coe conducts 
a successful Baptist Orphanage for native children, Mr, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


339 


Coe was not at home, but we were cordially received by 
Mrs. Coe and three or four assistants. Wood Island, or 
Woody, as it was once called, is as lovely as Kadiak; the 
site for the buildings of the Orphanage being particularly 
attractive, surrounded as it is by groves and dells. 

There was a pale green, springlike freshness folded 
over the gently rolling hills and hollows that was as en 
trancing as the first green mist that floats around the 
leafing alders on Puget Sound in March. 

The Orphanage was established in 1893 by the Woman’s 
American Baptist Home Mission Society of Boston, and 
the first child was entered in that year. Mr. Coe assumed 
charge of the Orphanage in 1895, and about one hundred 
and thirty children have been educated and cared for un¬ 
der his administration. They have come from the east 
as far as Kayak, and from the west as far as Unga. At 
present there is but one other Baptist Mission field in 
Alaska — at Copper Centre. 

The purpose of the work is to provide a Christian 
home and training for the destitute and friendless; to 
collect children, that they may receive an education; and 
to give industrial training so far as possible. 

There were forty-two children in the home at the time 
of our visit, and there was a full complement of helpers 
in the work, including a physician. 

The regular industrial work consists of all kinds of 
housework for the girls. Everything that a woman who 
keeps house should know is taught to these girls. The 
boys are taught to plough and sow, to cultivate and har¬ 
vest the crops, to raise vegetables, to care for stock and 
poultry. Twenty-five acres are under cultivation, and the 
hardier grains and vegetables are grown with fair success. 

Potatoes yield two hundred and fifty bushels to the 
acre; and barley, forty bushels. Cattle and poultry 
thrive and are of exceeding value, fresh milk and vege- 


340 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


tables being better than medicines for the welfare of the 
children. Angora goats require but little care and yield 
excellent fleece each year. 

The most valuable features of the work are the religious 
training; the furnishing of a comfortable home, warm 
clothing, clean and wholesome food of sufficient quantity, 
to children who have been rescued from vice and the 
most repulsive squalor; the atmosphere of industry, 
cleanliness, kindness, and love; and the medical care fur¬ 
nished to those who may be suffering because of the vices 
of their ancestors. 

This excellent work is supported by offerings from the 
Baptist Sunday Schools of New England, and by contribu¬ 
tions from the society with the yard-long name by which 
it was established. 

We were offered most delicious ginger-cake with nuts 
in it and big goblets of half milk and half cream; and we 
were not surprised that the shy, dark-skinned children 
looked so happy and so well cared for. We saw their 
schoolrooms, their play rooms, and their bedrooms, with 
the little clean cots ranged along the walls. 

The children were shy, but made friends with us read¬ 
ily ; and holding our hands, led the way to the dells 
where the violets grew. They listened to stories with 
large-eyed interest, and were, in general, bright, well- 
mannered, and attractive children. 

It was on Wood Island that the famous and mysterious 
ice-houses of the American-Russian Ice Company, whose 
headquarters were in San Francisco, were located. Their 
ruins still stand on the shore, as well as the deserted 
buildings of the North American Commercial Company, 
whose headquarters were here for many years — the furs 
of the Copper River and Kenai regions having been 
brought here to be shipped to San Francisco. 

The operations of the ice company were shrouded in 



Copyright by E. A. Ilegg, Juneau 





























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ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


341 


mystery, many claiming that not a pound of ice was ever 
shipped to the California seaport from Wood Island. 
Other authorities, however, affirm that at one time large 
quantities of ice were shipped to the southern port, and 
that the agent of the company lived on Wood Island in a 
manner as autocratic and princely as that of Baranoff 
himself. The whole island was his park and game pre¬ 
serve ; and one of the first roads ever built in Alaska was 
constructed here, comprising the circuit of the island, a 
distance of about thirteen miles. 

There is a Greek-Russian church and mission on the 
island. 

Not far from Wood Island is Spruce. 

“ Here,” says Tikhmenef, “ died the last member of the 
first clerical mission, the monk Herman. During his life¬ 
time Father Herman built near his dwelling a school for 
the daughters of the natives, and also cultivated potatoes.” 

Bancroft pokes fun at this obituary. The growing of 
potatoes, however, at that time in Alaska must have been 
of far greater value than any ordinary missionary work. 
Better to cultivate potatoes than to teach a lot of wretched 
beings to make the sign of the cross and dabble themselves 
with holy water — and it is said that this is all the aver¬ 
age priest taught a hundred years ago, the poor natives 
not being able to understand the Russian language. 

The Kadiak Archipelago consists of Kadiak, Afognak, 
Tugidak, Sitkinak, Marmot, Wood, Spruce, Chirikoff 
(named by Vancouver for the explorer who discovered it 
upon his return journey to Kamchatka), and several 
smaller ones. They are all similar in appearance, but 
smaller and less fertile than Kadiak. A small group 
northwest of Chirikoff is named the Semidi Islands. 

There is a persistent legend of a “ lost ” island in the 
Pacific, to the southward of Kadiak. 


342 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


When the Russian missionaries first came to the colo¬ 
nies in America, they found the natives living “as the 
seals and the otters lived.” They were absolutely with¬ 
out moral understanding, and simply followed their own 
instincts and desires. 

These missionaries were sent out in 1794, by command 
of the Empress Catherine the Second; and by the time of 
Sir George Simpson’s visit in 1842, their influence had 
begun to show beneficial results. An Aleutian and his 
daughter who had committed an unnatural crime suddenly 
found themelves, because of the drawing of new moral 
lines, ostracized from the society in which they had been 
accustomed to move unchallenged. They stole away by 
night in a bidarka, and having paddled steadily to the 
southward for four days and nights they sighted an island 
which had never been discovered by white man or dark. 
They landed and dwelt upon this island for a year. 

Upon their return to Kadiak and their favorable report 
of their lone, beautiful, and sea-surrounded retreat, a 
vessel was despatched in search of it, but without success. 

To this day it is “Lost” Island. Many have looked 
for it, but in vain. It is the sailor’s dream, and is sup¬ 
posed to be rich in treasure. Its streams are yellow with 
gold, its mountains green with copper glance; ambergris 
floats on the waters surrounding it; and all the seals and 
sea-otters that have been frightened out of the north sun 
themselves, unmolested, upon its rocks and its floating 
strands of kelp. 

One day it will rise out of the blue Pacific before the 
wondering eyes of some fortunate wanderer — even as the 
Northwest Passage, for whose sake men have sailed and 
suffered and failed and died for four hundred years, at 
last opened an icy avenue before the amazed and unbeliev¬ 
ing eyes of the dauntless Amundsen. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


Leaving Kodiak, the steamer soon reaches Afognak, on 
the island of the same name. There is no wharf at this 
settlement, and we were rowed ashore 

We were greatly interested in this place. The previous 
year we had made a brief voyage to Alaska. On our 
steamer was an unmarried lady who was going to Afognak 
as a missionary. She was to be the only white woman on 
the island, and she had entertained us with stories which 
she had heard of a very dreadful and wicked saloon¬ 
keeper who had lived near her schoolhouse, and whose 
evil influence had been too powerful for other missionaries 
to combat. 

“ But he can’t scare me off l ” she declared, her eyes 
shining with religious ardor. “I’ll conquer him before 
he shall conquer me ! ” 

She was short and stout and looked anything hut brave, 
and as we approached the scene of conflict, we felt much 
curiosity as to the outcome. 

She was on the beach when we landed, stouter, shorter, 
and more energetic than ever in her movements. She 
remembered us and proudly led the way up the bank to 
her schoolhouse. It was large, clean, and attractive. The 
missionary lived in four adjoining rooms, which were com¬ 
fortable and homelike. We were offered fresh bread and 
delicious milk. 

She talked rapidly and eagerly upon every subject save 
the one in which we were so interested. At last, I could 
endure the suspense no longer. 

343 


344 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


“ And how,” asked I, “ about the wicked saloon-keeper? ” 

A dull flush mounted to her very glasses. For a full min¬ 
ute there was silence. Then said she, slowly and stiffly : — 

44 How about what wicked saloon-keeper ? ” 

44 Why, the one you told us about last year ; who had a 
poor abused wife and seven children, and who scared the 
life out of every missionary who came here.” 

There was another silence. 

44 Oh,” said she then, coldly. 44 Well, he was rather 
hard to get along with at first, but his — er — hum — 
wife died about three months ago, and he has — er — 
hum ” (the words seemed to stick in her throat) 
44 asked me — he — asked me, you know, to ” (she giggled 
suddenly) 44 marry him, you know.” 

44 1 don’t know as I will, though,” she added, hastily, 
turning very red, as we stood staring at her, absolutely 
speechless. 

The village of Afognak is located at the southwestern 
end of Litnik Bay. It is divided into two distinct settle¬ 
ments, the most southerly of which has a population of 
about one hundred and fifty white and half-breed people. 
A high, grassy bluff, named Graveyard Point, separates 
this part of the village from that to the northward, which 
is entirely a native settlement of probably fifty persons. 

The population of the Island of Afognak is composed of 
Kadiaks, Eskimos, Russian half-breeds, and a few white 
hunters and fishermen. The social conditions are similar 
to those existing on the eastern shores of Cook Inlet. 

When Alaska was under the control of the Russian- 
American Company, many men grew old and compara¬ 
tively useless in its service. These employees were too 
helpless to be thrown upon their own resources, and their 
condition was reported to the Russian government. 

In 1835 an order was issued directing that such Rus- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


345 


sian employees as had married native women should be 
located as permanent settlers when they were no longer 
able to serve the company. The company was compelled 
to select suitable land, build comfortable dwellings for 
them, supply agricultural implements, seed, cattle, chickens, 
and a year’s provisions. 

These settlers were exempt from taxation and military 
duty, and the Russians were known as colonial citizens, the 
half-breeds as colonial settlers. The eastern shores of 
Cook Inlet, Afognak Island, and Spruce Island were 
selected for them. The half-breeds now occupying these 
localities are largely their descendants. They have always 
lived on a higher plane of civilization than the natives, 
and among them may be found many skilled craftsmen. 

There is no need for the inhabitants of any of these is¬ 
lands to suffer, for here are all natural resources for native 
existence. All the hardier vegetables thrive and may be 
stored for winter use; hay may be provided for cattle; the 
waters are alive with salmon and cod; bear, fox, mink, and 
sea-otter are still found. 

In summer the men may easily earn two hundred dollars 
working in the adjacent canneries; while the women, 
assisted by the old men and children, dry the fish, which 
is then known as ukala. There is a large demand in the 
North for ukala, for dog food. There are two large stores 
in Afognak, representing large trading companies, where 
two cents a pound is paid for all the ukala that can be 
obtained. 

The white men of Afognak are nearly all Scandinavians, 
married to, or living with, native women. The school¬ 
teacher I have already mentioned was the only white 
woman, and she told us that we were the first white 
women who had landed on the island during the year she 
had spent there. Only once had she talked with white 
women, and that was during a visit to Kodiak. 


346 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The town has a sheltered and attractive site on a level 
green. There is a large Greek-Russian church, not far 
from the noisy saloon which is presided over by the 
saloon-keeper who was once bad, but who has now yielded 
to the missionary’s spell. 

Karluk River, on the eastern side of Kadiak Island, is 
the greatest salmon stream in the world. It is sixteen miles 
long, less than six feet deep, and so narrow at its mouth 
that a child could toss a pebble from shore to shore. It 
seems absurd to enter a canoe to cross this stream, so like 
a little creek is it, across which one might easily leap. 

Yet up this tiny water-way millions of salmon struggle 
every season to the spawning-grounds in Karluk Lake. 
Before the coming of canners with traps and gill-nets in 
1884, it is said that a solid mass of fish might be seen 
filling this stream from bank to bank, and from its mouth 
to the lake in the hills. 

In 1890 the largest cannery in the world was located 
in Karluk Bay, but now that distinction belongs to Bristol 
Bay, north of the Aliaska Peninsula. (Another “ largest 
in the world ” is on Puget Sound!) 

Karluk Bay is very small; but several canneries are on 
its shores, and when they are all in operation, the em¬ 
ployees are sufficient in number to make one of the largest 
towns in Alaska. In 1890 three millions of salmon were 
packed in the several canneries operating in the bay ; in 
1900 more than two millions in the two canneries then 
operating ; but, on account of the use of traps and gill- 
nets, the pack has greatly decreased since then, and during 
some seasons has proved a total failure. 

Fifteen years ago two-thirds of the entire Alaskan 
salmon pack were furnished by the ten canneries of Kadiak 
Island, and these secured almost their entire supply from 
Karluk River. Furthermore, at that time, the canners 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


347 


enjoyed their vast monopoly without tax, license, or any 
government interference. 

Immense fortunes have been made — and lost — in the 
fish industry during the last twenty years. 

The superintendents of these canneries always live luxu¬ 
riously, and entertain like princes — or Baranoff. Their 
comfortable houses are furnished with all modern luxuries, 
— elegant furniture, pianos, hot and cold water, electric 
baths. Perfectly trained, noiseless Chinamen glide around 
the table, where dinners of ten or twelve delicate courses 
are served, with a different wine for each course. 

Champagne is a part of the hospitality of Alaska. The 
cheapest is seven dollars and a half a bottle, and Alaskans 
seldom buy the cheapest of anything. 

It was on a soft gray afternoon that the Bora entered 
Karluk Bay between the two picturesque promontories 
that plunge boldly out into Shelikoff Straits. It 
seemed as though all the sea-birds of the world must be 
gathered there. Our entrance set them afloat from their 
perches on the rocky cliffs. They filled the air, from 
shore to shore, like a snow-storm. Their poetic flight 
and shrill, mournful plaining haunt every memory of 
Karluk Bay. 

Now and then they settled for an instant. A cliff 
would shine out suddenly — a clear, tremulous white; then, 
as suddenly, there would be nothing but a sheer height 
of dark stone veined with green before our bewildered 
gaze. It was as if a silvery, winged cloud drifted up and 
down the face of the cliffs and then floated out across 
the bay. 

Several old sailing vessels, or “ wind-jammers,” lay at 
anchor. They are used for conveying stores and employees 
from San Francisco. The many buildings of the can¬ 
neries give Karluk the appearance of a town — in fact, 
during the summer, it is a town ; while in the winter 


348 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


only a few caretakers of the buildings and property 
remain. 

Men of almost every nationality under the sun may 
be found here, working side by side. 

Ceaseless complaints are made of the lawless conditions 
existing “to Westward.” Besides the thousands of men 
employed in the canneries of the Kadiak and the Aleu¬ 
tian islands, at least ten thousand men work in the can¬ 
neries of Bristol Bay. They come from China, Japan, 
the Sandwich Islands, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Porto 
Rico, the Philippines, Guam, and almost every country 
that may be named. 

“The prevailing color of Alaska may be ‘rosy laven¬ 
der,’ ” said a gentleman who knows, “ but let me tell you 
that out there you will find conditions that are neither 
rosy nor lavender.” 

There is a United States Commissioner and a Deputy 
United States Marshal in the district, but they are unable 
to control these men, many of whom are desperate charac¬ 
ters. The superintendents of the canneries are there for 
the purpose of putting up the season’s pack as speedily as 
possible; and, although they are invariably men who de¬ 
plore crime, they have been known to condone it, to avoid 
the taking of themselves or their crews hundreds of miles 
to await the action of some future term of court. 

For many years the District of Alaska has been di¬ 
vided for judicial purposes into three divisions: the first 
comprising the southeastern Alaska district; the second, 
Nome and the Seward Peninsula ; the third, the vast coun¬ 
try lying between these two. 

In each is organized a full United States district court. 
The three judges who preside over these courts receive 
the salary of five thousand dollars a year, — which, con¬ 
sidering the high character of the services required, 
and the cost of living in Alaska, is niggardly. So much 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


349 


power is placed in the hands of these judges that they 
are freely called czars by the people of Alaska. 

The people of the third district complained bitterly 
that their court facilities were entirely inadequate. 
Several murders were committed, and the accused awaited 
trial for many months. Witnesses were detained from 
their homes and lawful pursuits. Delays were so vexatious 
that many crimes remained unpunished, important wit¬ 
nesses rebelling against being held in custody for a whole 
year before they had an opportunity to testify — the 
judge of the third district being kept busy along the 
Yukon and at Fairbanks. 

As a partial remedy for some of these abuses of govern¬ 
ment, Governor Brady, in his report for the year 1904, 
suggested the creation of a fourth judicial district, to be 
furnished with a sea-going vessel, which should be under 
the custody of the marshal and at the command of the 
court. It was recommended that this vessel be equipped 
with small arms, a Gatling gun, and ammunition. All 
the islands which lie along the thousands of miles of 
shore-line of Kenai and Aliaska peninsulas, Cook Inlet, 
the Kadiak, Shumagin, and Aleutian chains, and Bristol 
Bay might be visited in season, and a wholesome respect 
for law and order be enforced. 

The burning question in Alaska has been for many 
years the one of home government. As early as 1869 an 
impassioned plea was made in Sitka that Alaska should 
be given territorial rights. Yet even the bill for one 
delegate to Congress was defeated as late as the winter 
of 1905 — whereupon fiery Valdez instantly sent its fa¬ 
mous message of secession. 

Governor Brady criticised the appointment of United 
States commissioners by the judges, claiming that there 
is really no appeal from a commissioner’s court to a dis¬ 
trict court, for the reason that the judge usually appoints 


350 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


some particular protege and feels bound to sustain his 
decisions. The governor stated plainly in his report that 
the most remunerative offices are filled by persons who 
are peculiarly related, socially or politically, to the judges ; 
that the attorneys and their clients understood this and 
considered an appeal useless. Governor Brady also de¬ 
clared the fee system, as practised in these commissioners’ 
courts, to be an abomination. Unless there is trouble, the 
officer cannot live; and the inference is that he, there¬ 
fore, welcomes trouble. 

Whatever of truth there may have been in these pun¬ 
gent criticisms, President Roosevelt endorsed many of the 
governor’s recommendations in his message to Congress; 
and several have been adopted. During the past two 
years Alaska has made rapid strides toward self-govern¬ 
ment, and important reforms have been instituted. 

The territory now has a delegate to Congress. Upon 
the subject of home government the people are widely 
and bitterly divided. Those having large interests in 
Alaska are, as a rule, opposed to home government, claim¬ 
ing that it is the politicians and those owning nothing upon 
which taxes could be levied, who are agitating the subject. 
These claim that the few who have ventured heavily to 
develop Alaska would be compelled to bear the entire 
burden of a heavy taxation, for the benefit of the profes¬ 
sional politician, the carpet-bagger, and the impecunious 
loafer who is “just waiting for something to turn up.” 

On the other hand, those favoring territorial govern¬ 
ment claim that it is opposed only by the large corpora¬ 
tions which “have been bleeding Alaska for years.” 

The jurisdiction of the United States commissioners in 
Alaska is far greater than is that of other court commis¬ 
sioners. They can sit as committing magistrates; as jus¬ 
tices of the peace, can try civil cases where the amount 
involved is one thousand dollars or less; can try crimp 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


351 


nal cases and sentence to one year’s imprisonment; they 
are clothed with full authority as probate judges; they 
may act as coroners, notaries, and recorders of precincts. 

The third district, presided over by Judge Reid, whose 
residence is at Fairbanks, is five hundred miles wide by 
nine hundred miles long. It extends from the North 
Pacific Ocean to the Arctic Ocean, and from the interna¬ 
tional boundary on the east to the Koyukuk. The chief 
means of transportation within this district are steamers 
along the coast and on the Yukon, and over trails by dog 
teams. 

It is small wonder that a man hesitates long before 
suing for his rights in Alaska. The expense and hardship 
of even reaching the nearest seat of justice are unimagi¬ 
nable. One man travelled nine hundred miles to reach 
Rampart to attend court. The federal court issues all 
licenses, franchises, and charters, and collects all occupa¬ 
tion taxes. Every village or mining settlement of two or 
three hundred men has a commissioner, whose sway in 
his small sphere is as absolute as that of Baranoff was. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


We found only one white woman at Karluk, the wife of 
the manager of the cannery, a refined and accomplished 
lady. 

Her home was in San Francisco, but she spent the sum¬ 
mer months with her husband at Karluk. 

We were taken ashore in a boat and were most hospi¬ 
tably received in her comfortable home. 

About two o ’clock in the afternoon we boarded a barge 
and were towed by a very small, but exceedingly noisy, 
launch up the Karluk River to the hatcheries, which are 
maintained by the Alaska Packers Association. 

It was one of those soft, cloudy afternoons when the 
coloring is all in pearl and violet tones, and the air was 
sweet with rain that did not fall. The little make-believe 
river is very narrow, and so shallow that we were con¬ 
stantly in danger of running aground. We tacked from 
one side of the stream to the other, as the great steamers 
do on the Yukon. 

On this little pearly voyage, a man who accompanied 
us told a story which clings to the memory. 

“Talk about your big world,” said he. “You think it 
’u’d be easy to hide yourself up in this God-forgotten place, 
don’t you ? Just let me tell you a story. A man come 
up here a few years ago and went to work. He never 
did much talkin’. If you ast him a question about his- 
self or where he come from, he shut up like a steel trap 
with a rat in it. He was a nice-lookin’ man, too, an’ he 

352 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


353 


had an education an’ kind of nice clean ways with him. 
He built a little cabin, an’ he didn’t go ‘ out ’ in winter, 
like the rest of us. He stayed here at Karluk an’ looked 
after things. 

“ Well, after one-two year a good-lookin’ young woman 
come up here — an’ jiminy-cricket! He fell in love with 
her like greased lightnin’ an’ married her in no time. I 
God, but that man was happy. He acted like a plumb 
fool over that woman. After while they had a baby — 
an’ then he acted like two plumb fools in one. I ain’t 
got any wife an’ babies myself an’ I God! it ust to 
make me feel queer in my throat. 

44 Well, one summer the superintendent’s wife brought 
up a woman to keep house for her. She was a white, 
sad-faced-lookin’ woman, an’ when she had a little time 
to rest she ust to climb up on the hill an’ set there alone, 
watchin’ the sea-gulls. I’ve seen her set there two hours 
of a Sunday without movin’. Maybe she’d be settin’ 
there now if I hadn’t gone and put my foot clean in it, 
as usual. 

44 I got kind of sorry for her, an’ you may shoot me 
dead for a fool, but one day I ast her why she didn’t walk 
around the bay an’ set a spell with the other woman. 

“ 4 I don’t care much for women,’ she says, never 
changin’ countenance, but just starin’ out across the bay. 

“ 4 She’s got a reel nice, kind husband,’ says I, tryin’ to 
work on her feelin’s. 

44 4 1 don’t like husbands,’ says she, as short as lard pie¬ 
crust. 

44 4 She’s got an awful nice little baby,’ says I, for if 
you keep on long enough, you can always get a woman. 

44 She turns then an’ looks at me. 

44 4 It’s a girl,’ says I, 4 an’ Lord, the way it nestles up 
into your neck an’ loves you ! ’ 

44 Her lips opened an’ shut, but she didn’t say a word; 

2 a 


354 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


but if you’d look ’way down into a well an’ see a fire 
burnin’ in the water, it ’u’d look like her eyes did then. 

44 ‘ Its father acts like a plumb fool over it an’ its 
mother,’ says I. 4 The sun raises over there, an’ sets over 
here — but he thinks it raises an’ sets in that woman an’ 
baby.’ 

“ ‘ The woman must be pretty,’ says she, suddenly, an’ 
I never heard a woman speak so bitter. 

44 ‘ She is,’ says I; 4 she’s got — ’ 

44 4 Don’t tell me what she’s got,’ snaps she, gettin’ up 
off the ground, kind o’ stiff-like. 4 I’ve made up my 
mind to go see her, an’ maybe I’d back out if you told me 
what she’s like. Maybe you’d tell me she had red wavy 
hair an’ blue eyes an’ a baby mouth an’ smiled like an 
angel — an’ then devils couldn’t drag me to look at her.’ 

44 Say, I nearly fell dead, then, for that just described 
the woman; but I’m no loon, so I just kept still. 

44 4 What’s their name ? ’ says-she, as we walked along. 

44 4 Davis,’ says I; an’ mercy to heaven ! I didn’t know 
I was tellin’ a lie. 

44 All of a sudden she laughed out loud — the awfullest 
laugh. It sounded as harrable mo’rnful as a sea-gull just 
before a storm. 

44 4 Husband! ’ she flings out, jeerin’; 4 1 had a husband 
once. I worshipped the ground he trod on. I thought 
the sun raised an’ set in him. He carried me on two 
chips for a while, but I didn’t have any children, an’ I 
took to worryin’ over it, an’ lost my looks an’ my disposi¬ 
tion. It goes deep with some women, an’ it went deep 
with me. Men don’t seem to understand some things. 
Instid of sympathizin’ with me, he took to complainin’ 
an’ findin’ fault an’ finally stayin’ away from home. 

44 4 There’s no use talkin’ about what I suffered for a 
year; I never told anybody this much before — an’ it 
wa’n’t anything to what I’ve suffered ever since. But 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


355 


one day I stumbled on a letter lie had wrote to a woman 
he called Ruth. He talked about her red wavy hair an’ 
blue eyes an’ baby mouth an’ the way she smiled like an 
angel. They were goin’ to run away together. He told 
her he’d heard of a place at the end of the earth where a 
man could make a lot of money, an’ he’d go there an’ get 
settled an’ then send for her, if she was willin’ to live 
away from everybody, just for him. He said they’d 
never see a human soul that knew them.’ 

“ She stopped talkin’ all at once, an’ we walked along. 
I was scared plumb to death. I didn’t know the woman’s 
name, for he always called her ‘dearie,’ but the baby’s 
name was Ruth. 

“‘You’ve got to feelin’ bad now,’ says I, ‘an’ maybe 
we’d best not go on.’ 

“ ‘ I’m goin’ on,’ says she. 

“ After a while she says, in a different voice, kind of 
hard, ‘ I put that letter back an’ never said a word. I 
wouldn’t turn my hand over to keep a man. I never saw 
the woman; but I know how she looks. I’ve gone over 
it every night of my life since. I know the shape of 
every feature. I never let on, to him or anybody else. 
It’s the only thing I’ve thanked God for, since I read that 
letter — helpin’ me to keep up an’ never let on. It’s the 
only thing I’ve prayed for since that day. It wa’n’t very 
long — about a month. He just up an’ disappeared. 
People talked about me awful because I didn’t cry, an’ 
take on, an’ hunt him. 

“ ‘ I took what little money he left me an’ went away. 
I got the notion that he’d gone to South America, so I 
set out to get as far in the other direction as possible. I 
got to San Francisco, an’ then the chance fell to me to come 
up here. It sounded like the North Pole to me, so I come. 
I’m awful glad I come. Them sea-gulls is the only pleasure 
I’ve had — since ; an’ it’s been four year. That’s all.’ 


856 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


44 Well, sir, when we got np close to the cabin, I got to 
shiverin’ so’s I couldn’t brace up an’ go in with her. It 
didn’t seem possible it could be the same man, but then, 
such darn queer things do happen in Alaska ! Anyhow, 
I’d got cold feet. I remembered that the cannery the 
man worked in was shut down, so’s he’d likely be at 
home. 

“ 4 I’ll go back now,’ I mumbles, ‘ an’ leave you women¬ 
folks to get acquainted.’ 

“ I fooled along slow, an’ when I’d got nearly to the 
settlement I heard her cornin’. I turned an’ waited — 
an’ I God! she won’t be any ash-whiter when she’s in 
her coffin. She was steppin’ in all directions, like a blind 
woman; her arms hung down stiff at her sides; her 
fingers were locked around her thumbs as if they’d never 
loose ; an’ some nights, even now, I can’t sleep for thinkin’ 
how her eyes looked. I guess if you’d gag a dog, so’s he 
couldn’t cry, an’ then cut him up slow , inch by inch, his 
eyes ’u’d look like her’n did then. At sight of me her 
face worked, an’ I thought she was goin’ to cry ; but all 
at once she burst out into the awfullest laughin’ you ever 
heard outside of a lunatic asylum. 

“ 4 Lord God Almighty ! ’ she cries out — 4 where’s his 
mercy at, the Bible talks about? You’d think he might 
have a little mercy on an ugly woman who never had any 
children, wouldn’t you — especially when there’s women 
in the world with wavy red hair an’ blue eyes — women 
that smile like angels an’ have little baby girls ! Oh, 
Lord, what a joke on me ! ’ 

44 Well, she went on laughin’ till my blood turned cold, 
but she never told me one word of what happened to her. 
She went back to California on the first boat that went, 
but it was two weeks. I saw her several times; an’ at 
sight of me she’d burst out into that same laughin’ an’ 
cry out, 4 My Lord, what a joke ! Did you ever see its 






















































Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

A Famous Team of Huskies 




ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 357 

beat for a joke?’ but she wouldn’t answer a thing I ast 
her. The last time I ever see her, she was leanin’ over 
the ship’s side. She looked like a dead woman, but when 
she see me she waved her hand and burst out laughin’. 

“‘Do you hear them sea-gulls?’ she cries out. ‘All 
they can scream is Kar -luk ! Kar -luk ! Kar-\wk ! You 
can hear’m say it just as plain. iTar-luk ! I’ll hear’em 
when I lay in my grave I Oh, my Lord, what a joke ! ’ ” 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


Our progress up Karluk River in the barge was so 
leisurely that we seemed to be “ drifting upward with the 
flood ” between the low green shores that sloped, covered 
with flowers, to the water. The clouds were a soft gray, 
edged with violet, and the air was very sweet. 

The hatchery is picturesquely situated. 

A tiny rivulet, called Shasta Creek, comes tumbling 
noisily down from the hills, and its waters are utilized in 
the various “ ponds.” 

The first and highest pond they enter is called the 
“ settling ” pond, which receives, also, in one corner, the 
clear, bubbling waters of a spring, whose upflow, never 
ceasing, prevents this corner of the pond from freezing. 
This pond is deeper than the others, and receives the 
waters of the creek so lightly that the sediment is not 
disturbed in the bottom, its function being to permit the 
sediment carried down from the creek to settle before the 
waters pass on into the wooden flume, which carries part 
of the overflow into the hatching-house, or on into the 
lower ponds, which are used for “ripening” the salmon. 

There are about a dozen of these ponds, and they are 
terraced down the hill with a fall of from four to six feet 
between them. 

They are rectangular in shape and walled with large 
stones and cement. The walls are overgrown with 
grasses and mosses; and the waters pouring musically 
down over them from large wooden troughs suspended 

358 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


359 


horizontally above them, and whose bottoms are pierced 
by numerous augur-holes, produce the effect of a series 
of gentle and lovely waterfalls. 

It is essential that the fall of the water should be as 
light and as soft as possible, that the fish may not be dis¬ 
turbed and excited — ripening more quickly and perfectly 
when kept quiet. 

These ponds were filled with salmon. Many of them 
moved slowly and placidly through the clear waters ; 
others struggled and fought to leap their barriers in a 
seemingly passionate and supreme desire to reach the 
highest spawning-ground. There is to me something 
divine in the desperate struggle of a salmon to reach the 
natural place for the propagation of its kind — the shal¬ 
low, running upper waters of the stream it chooses to 
ascend. It cannot be will-power — it can be only a God- 
given instinct — that enables it to leap cascades eight 
feet in height to accomplish its uncontrollable desire. 
Notwithstanding all commercial reasoning and all human 
needs, it seems to me to be inhumanly cruel to corral so 
many millions of salmon every year, to confine them dur¬ 
ing the ripening period, and to spawn them by hand. 

In the natural method of spawning, the female salmon 
seeks the upper waters of the stream, and works out a 
trough in the gravelly bed by vigorous movements of her 
body as she lies on one side. In this trough her eggs are 
deposited and are then fertilized by the male. 

The eggs are then covered with gravel to a depth of 
several feet, such gravel heaps being known as “ redds.” 

To one who has studied the marvellously beautiful 
instincts of this most human of fishes, their desperate 
struggles in the ripening ponds are pathetic in the ex¬ 
treme ; and I was glad to observe that even the gentle¬ 
men of our party frequently turned away with faces full 
of the pity of it. 


360 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


A salmon will struggle until it is but a purple, shape¬ 
less mass ; it will fling itself upon the rocks; the over¬ 
pouring waters will bear it back for many yards; then it 
will gradually recover itself and come plunging and fight¬ 
ing back to fling itself once more upon the same rocks. 
Each time that it is washed away it is weaker, more 
bruised and discolored. Battered, bleeding, with fins 
broken off and eyes beaten out, it still returns again and 
again, leaping and flinging itself frenziedly upon the stone 
walls. 

Its very rush through the water is pathetic, as one re¬ 
members it; it is accompanied by a loud swish and the 
waters fly out in foam; but its movements are so swift 
that only a line of silver — or, alas ! frequently one of 
purple—is visible through the beaded foam. 

Some discoloration takes place naturally when the fish 
has been in fresh water for some time; but much of it is 
due to bruising. A salmon newly arrived from the sea 
is called a “ clean ” salmon, because of its bright and 
sparkling appearance and excellent condition. 

There is a tramway two or three hundred yards in 
length, along which one may walk and view the various 
ponds. It is used chiefly to convey stock-fish from the 
corrals to the upper ripening-ponds. 

When ripe fish are to be taken from a pond, the water 
is lowered to a depth of about a foot and a half; a kind 
of slatting is then put into the water at one end and slid- 
den gently under the fish, which are examined — the 
“ ripe ” ones being placed in a floating car and the “ green ” 
ones freed in the pond. A stripping platform attends every 
pond, and upon this the spawning takes place. 

The young fish, from one to two years old, before it has 
gone to sea, is called by a dozen different names, chief of 
which are parr and salmon-fry„ At the end of ten weeks 
after hatching, the fry are fed tinned salmon flesh, — 


ALASKA: THE GEE AT COUNTRY 


361 


“ do-overs ” furnished by the canneries, — which is thor¬ 
oughly desiccated and put through a sausage-machine. 

When the fry are three or four months old, they are 
“planted.” After being freed they work their way 
gradually down to salt-water, which pushes up into the 
lagoon, and finally out into the bay. They return fre¬ 
quently to fresh water and for at least a year work in 
and out with the tides. 

The majority of fry cling to the fresh-water vicinity for 
two years after hatching, at which time they are about 
eight inches long. The second spring after hatching they 
sprout out suddenly in bright and glistening scales, which 
conceal the dark markings along their sides which are 
known as parr-marks. They are then called “ smolt,” and 
are as adult salmon in all respects save size. 

In all rivers smolts pass down to the sea between 
March and June, weighing only a few ounces. The same 
fall they return as “ grilse,” weighing from three to five 
pounds. 

After their first spawning, they return during the win- 
£er to the sea ; and in the following year reascend the river 
as adult salmon. Males mature sexually earlier than females. 

The time of year when salmon ascend from the sea 
varies greatly in different rivers, and salmon rivers are 
denominated as “early ” or “ late.” 

The hatchery at Ivarluk is a model one, and is highly 
commended by government experts. It was established 
in the spring of 1896, and stripping was done in August 
of the same year. The cost of the present plant has 
oeen about forty thousand dollars, and its annual expen¬ 
diture for maintenance, labor, and improvements, from 
ten to twenty thousand. There is a superintendent and a 
permanent force of six or eight men, including a cook, 
with additional help from the canneries when it is re¬ 
quired. 


362 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


There are many buildings connected with the hatchery, 
and all are kept in perfect order. The first season, it is 
estimated that two millions of salmon-fry were liberated, 
with a gradual increase until the present time, when 
forty millions are turned out in a single season. 

The superintendent was taken completely by surprise by 
our visit, but received us very hospitably and conducted 
us through all departments with courteous explanations. 
The shining, white cleanliness and order everywhere 
manifest would make a German housewife green of envy. 

At this point Karluk River widens into a lagoon, in 
which the corrals are wired and netted off somewhat 
after the fashion of fish-traps, covering an area of about 
three acres. 

Fish for the hatcheries are called “stock-fish.” They 
are secured by seiners in the lagoon opposite the hatcheries, 
and are then transferred to the corrals. As soon as a sal¬ 
mon has the appearance of ripening, it is removed by the 
use of seines to the ripening-ponds. 

In the hatching-house are more than sixty troughs, four¬ 
teen feet in length, sixteen inches in width, and seven 
inches in depth. The wood of which they are composed 
is surfaced redwood. The joints are coated with asphal- 
tum tar, with cotton wadding used as calking material. 
When the trough is completed, it is given one coat of 
refined tar and two of asphaltum varnish. 

In the Karluk hatchery the troughs never leak, owing 
to this superior construction; and it is said that the im¬ 
portance of this advantage cannot be overestimated. 

Leaks make it impossible for the employees to estimate 
the amount of water in the troughs; repairs startle the 
young fry and damage the eggs; and the damp floors 
cause illness among the employees. The Karluk hatchery 
is noted for its dryness and cleanliness. 

The setting of the hatchery is charming. The hills, 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


363 


treeless, pale green, and velvety, slope gently to the river 
and the lagoon. Now and then a slight ravine is filled 
with a shrubby growth of a lighter green. Flowers flame 
everywhere, and tiny rivulets come singing down to the 
larger stream. 

The greenness of the hills continues around the bay, 
broken off abruptly on Karluk Head, where the soft, 
veined gray of the stone cliff blends with the green. 

The bay opens out into the wide, bold, purple sweep 
of Shelikoff Strait. 

Every body of water has its character — some feature 
that is peculiarly its own, which impresses itself upon the 
beholder. The chief characteristic of Shelikoff Strait is 
its boldness. There is something dauntless, daring, and 
impassioned in its wide and splendid sweep to the chaste 
line of snow peaks of the Aleutian Range on the Aliaska 
Peninsula. It seems to hold a challenge. 

I should like to live alone, or almost alone, high on 
storm-swept Karluk 'Head, fronting that magnificent 
scene that can never be twice quite the same. What 
work one might do there — away from little irritating 
cares! No neighbors to “drop in” with bits of deli¬ 
cious gossip ; no theatres in which to waste the splendid 
nights; no bridge-luncheons to tempt, — nothing but 
sunlight glittering down on the pale green hills; the 
golden atmosphere above the little bay filled with tremu¬ 
lous, winged snow ; and miles and miles and miles of 
purple sea. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


“ What kind of place is Uyak ? ” I asked a deck-hand 
who was a native of Sweden, as we stood out in the bow 
of the Lora one day. 

He turned and looked at me and grinned. 

“It ees a hal of a blace,” he replied, promptly and 
frankly. “ It ees yoost dat t’ing. You vill see.” 

And I did see. I should, in fact, like to take this frank- 
spoken gentleman along with me wherever I go, solely to 
answer people who ask me what kind of place Uyak is — 
his opinion so perfectly coincides with my own. 

There were canneries at Uyak, and mosquitoes, and 
things to be smelled ; but if there be anything there 
worth seeing, they must first kill the mosquitoes, else it 
will never be seen. 

The air was black with these pests, and the instant we 
stepped upon the wharf we were black with them, too. 
Every passenger resembled a windmill in action, as he 
raced down the wharf toward the cannery, hoping to find 
relief there ; and as he went his nostrils were assailed by 
an odor that is surpassed in only one place on earth — 
Belkoffski ! — and it comes later. 

The hope of relief in the canneries proved to be a vain 
one. The unfortunate Chinamen and natives were covered 
with mosquitoes as they worked ; their faces and arms 
were swollen ; their eyes were fierce with suffering. They 
did not laugh at our frantic attempts to rid ourselves of 
the winged pests — as we laughed at one another. There 
was nothing funny in the situation to those poor wretches. 

364 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


365 


It was a tragedy. They stared at us with desperate eyes 
which asked: — 

“ Why don’t you go away if you are suffering ? You 
are free to leave. What have you to complain of ? We 
must stay.” 

We went out and tried to walk a little way along the 
hill ; but the mosquitoes mounted in fclouds from the 
wild-rose thickets. At the end of fifteen minutes we fled 
back to the steamer and locked ourselves in our state¬ 
rooms. There we sat down and nursed our grievances 
with camphor and alcohol. 

We sailed up Uyak Bay to the mine of the Kodiak Gold 
Mining Company. This is a free milling mine and had 
been a developing property for four years. It was then 
installing a ten-stamp mill, and had twenty thousand 
tons of ore blocked out, the ore averaging from fifteen 
to twenty dollars a ton. 

This mine is located on the northern side of Kadiak 
Island, and has good water power and excellent shipping 
facilities. Fifty thousand dollars were taken out of the 
beaches in the vicinity in 1904 by placer mining. 

Here, in this lovely, lonely bay, one of the most charm¬ 
ing women I ever met spends her summers. She is the 
wife of one of the owners of the mine, and her home is in 
San Francisco. She finds the summers ideal, and longs 
for the novelty of a winter at the mine. She has a canoe 
and spends most of her time on the water. There are no 
mosquitoes at the mine ; the summers are never uncom¬ 
fortably hot, and it is seldom, indeed, that the mercury 
falls to zero in the winter. 

From Kadiak Island we crossed Shelikoff Straits to 
Cold Bay, on the Aliaska Peninsula, which we reached at 
midnight, and which is the only port that could not 
tempt us ashore. When our dear, dark-eyed Japanese, 
“ Charlie,” played a gentle air upon our cabin door with 


366 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


his fingers and murmured apologetically, “ Cold Bay,” 
we heard the rain pouring down our windows in sheets, 
and we ungratefully replied, “ Go away, Charlie, and 
leave us alone.” 

No rope-ladders and dory landings for us on such a 
night, at a place with such a name. 

The following day was clear, however, and we sailed 
all day along the peninsula. To the south of us lay the 
Tugidak, Trinity, Chirikoff, and Semidi islands. 

At six in the evening we landed at Chignik, another 
uninteresting cannery place. From Chignik on “ to West¬ 
ward” the resemblance of the natives to the Japanese be¬ 
came more remarkable. As they stood side by side on 
the wharves, it was almost impossible to distinguish one 
from the other. The slight figures, brown skin, softly 
bright, dark eyes, narrowing at the corners, and amiable 
expression made the resemblance almost startling. 

At Chignik we had an amusing illustration, however, 
of the ease with which even a white man may grow to 
resemble a native. 

The mail agent on the Dora was a great admirer of his 
knowledge of natives and native customs and language. 
Cham-mi is a favorite salutation with them. Approach¬ 
ing a man who was sitting on a barrel, and who certainly 
resembled a native in color and dress, the agent pleasantly 
exclaimed, “ Cham-mi” 

There was no response; the man did not lift his head ; 
a slouch hat partially concealed his face. 

“Cham-mi! ” repeated the agent, advancing a step nearer. 

There was still no response, no movement of recognition. 

The mail agent grew red. 

“ He must be deaf as a post,” said he. He slapped the 
man on the shoulder and, stooping, fairly shouted in his 
ear, “ Cham-mi, old man ! ” 

Then the man lifted his head and brought to view the 
unmistakable features of a Norwegian. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 367 

“ T’hal with you,” said he, briefly. “ I’m no tamn 
Eskimo.” 

The mail agent looked as though the wharf had gone 
out from under his feet; and never again did we hear 
him give the native salutation to any one. The Norwe¬ 
gian had been living for a year among the natives ; and 
by the twinkle in his eye as he again lowered his head it 
was apparent that he appreciated the joke. 

At the entrance to Chignik Bay stands Castle Cape, or 
Tuliiumnit Point. From the southeastern side it really 
resembles a castle, with turrets, towers, and domes. It is 
an immense, stony pile jutting boldly out into the sea, 
whose sparkling blue waves, pearled with foam, break 
loudly upon its base. In color it is soft gray, richly and 
evenly streaked with rose. Sea birds circled, screaming, 
over it and around it. Castle Cape might be the twin 
sister of “Calico Bluff” on the Yukon. 

Popoff and Unga are the principal islands of the 
Shumagin group, on one of which Behring landed and 
buried a sailor named Shumagin. They are the centre of 
famous cod-fishing grounds which extend westward and 
northward to the Arctic Ocean, eastward to Cook Inlet, 
and southeastward to the Straits of Juan de Fuca. 

There are several settlements on the Island of Unga — 
Coal Harbor, Sandy Point, Apollo, and Unga. The latter 
is a pretty village situated on a curving agate beach. It 
is of some importance as a trading post. 

Finding no one to admit us to the Russo-Greek church, 
we admitted ourselves easily with our state-room key; 
but the tawdry cheapness of the interior scarcely repaid 
us for the visit. The graveyard surrounding the church 
was more interesting. 

There is no wharf at Unga, but there is one at Apollo, 
about three miles farther up the bay. We were taken up 
to Apollo in a sail-boat, and it proved to be an exciting 


868 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


sail. It is not sailing unless the rail is awash; but it 
seemed as though the entire boat were awash that June 
afternoon in the Bay of Unga. Scarcely had we left the 
ship when we were struck by a succession of squalls which 
lasted until our boat reeled, hissing, up to the wharf at 
Apollo. 

Water poured over us in sheets, drenching us. We 
could not stay on the seats, as the bottom of the boat 
stood up in the air almost perpendicularly. We there¬ 
fore stood up with it, our feet on the lower rail with the 
sea flowing over them, and our shoulders pressed against 
the gunwale. Had it not been for the broad shoulders of 
two Englishmen, our boat would surely have gone over. 

It all came upon us so suddenly that we had no time to be 
frightened, and, with all the danger, it was glorious. No 
whale — no “ right ” whale, even — could be prouder than 
we were of the wild splashing and spouting that attended 
our tipsy race up Unga Bay. 

The wharf floated dizzily above us, and we were com¬ 
pelled to climb a high perpendicular ladder to reach it. 
No woman who minds climbing should go to Alaska. She 
is called upon at a moment’s notice to climb everything, 
from rope-ladders and perpendicular ladders to volcanoes. 
A mile’s walk up a tramway brought us to the Apollo. 

This is a well-known mine, which has been what is called 
a “ paying proposition ” for many years. At the time of 
our visit it was worked out in its main lode, and the 
owners had been seeking desperately for a new one. It 
was discovered the following year, and the Apollo is once 
more a rich producer. 

In a large and commodious house two of the owners of 
the mine lived, their wives being with them for the summer. 
They were gay and charming women, fond of society, and 
pining for the fleshpots of San Francisco. The white 
women living between Kodiak and Dutch Harbor are so 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


369 


few that they may be counted on one hand, and the 
luxurious furnishings of their homes in these out-of-the- 
way places are almost startling in their unexpectedness. 
We spent the afternoon at the mine, and the ladies re¬ 
turned to the Dora with us for dinner. The squalls had 
taken themselves off, and we had a prosaic return in the 
mine’s launch. 

“ What do we do ? ” said one of the ladies, in reply to 
my question. “ Oh, we read, walk, write letters, go out on 
the water, play cards, sew, and do so much fancy work that 
when we get back to San Francisco we have nothing to do 
but enjoy ourselves and brag about the good time we have 
in Alaska. We are all packed now to go camping — ” 

“Camping!” I repeated, too astonished to be polite. 

“ Yes, camping,” replied she, coloring, and speaking 
somewhat coldly. “We go in the launch to the most 
beautiful beach about ten miles from Unga. We stay a 
month. It is a sheltered beach of white sand. The waves 
lap on it all day long, blue, sparkling, and warm, and we 
almost live in them. The hills above .the beach are 
simply covered with the big blueberries that grow only 
in Alaska. They are somewhat like the black mountain 
huckleberry, only more delicious. We can them, pre¬ 
serve them, and dry them, and take them back to San 
Francisco with us. They are the best things I ever ate 
— with thick cream on them. I had some in the house ; 
I wish I had thought to offer you some.” 

She wished she had thought to offer me some ! 

On the Dora we were rapidly getting down to bacon and 
fish, — being about two thousand miles from Seattle, with 
no ice aboard in this land of ice, — and I am not enthusiastic 
about either. 

And she wished that she had thought to offer me some 
Alaskan blueberries that are more delicious than moun¬ 
tain huckleberries, and thick cream ! 


CHAPTER XXXV 


I have heard of steamers that have been built and 
sent out by missionary or church societies to do good in 
far and lonely places. 

The little Dora is not one of these, nor is religion her 
cargo; her hold is filled with other things. Yet blessings 
be on her for the good she does! Her mission is to carry 
mail, food, freight, and good cheer to the people of these 
green islands that go drifting out to Siberia, one by one. 
She is the one link that connects them with the great world 
outside; through her they obtain their sole touch of society, 
of which their appreciation is pitiful. 

Our captain was a big, violet-eyed Norwegian, about 
forty years old. He showed a kindness, a courtesy, and a 
patience to those lonely people that endeared him to us. 

He knew them all by name and greeted them cordially 
as they stood, smiling and eager, on the wharves. All 
kinds of commissions had been intrusted to him on his 
last monthly trip. To one he brought a hat; to another 
a phonograph; to another a box of fruit; dogs, cats, chairs, 
flowers, books — there seemed to be nothing that he had 
not personally selected for the people at the various ports. 
Even a little seven-year-old half-breed girl had travelled in 
his care from Valdez to join her father on one of the 
islands. 

Wherever there was a woman, native or half-breed, he 
took us ashore to make her acquaintance. 

“ Come along now,” he would say, in a tone of command, 
370 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


371 


“ and be nice. They don’t get a chance to talk to many 
women. Haven’t you got some little womanly thing 
along with you that you can give them ? It’ll make them 
happy for months.” 

* We were eager enough to talk to them, heaven knows, 
and to give them what we could ; but the “ little womanly 
things ” that we could spare on a two months’ voyage in 
Alaska were distressingly few. When we had nothing 
more that we could give, the stern disapproval in the cap¬ 
tain’s eyes went to our hearts. Box after box of bonbons, 
figs, salted almonds, preserved ginger, oranges, apples, 
ribbons, belts, pretty bags — one after one they went, 
until, like Olive Schreiner’s woman, I felt that I had given 
up everything save the one green leaf in my bosom ; and 
that the time would come when the captain would com¬ 
mand me to give that up, too. 

There seems to be something in those great lonely 
spaces that moves the people to kindness, to patience and 
consideration — to tenderness, even. I never before came 
close to such humanness. It shone out of people in whom 
one would least expect to find it. 

Several times while we were at dinner the chief stew¬ 
ard, a gay and handsome youth not more than twenty- 
one years old, rushed through the dining room, crying: — 

“ Give me your old magazines — quick ! There’s a 
whaler’s boat alongside.” 

A stampede to our cabins would follow, and a hasty 
upgathering of such literature as we could lay our hands 
upon. 

The whaling and cod-fishing schooners cruise these 
waters for months without a word from the outside until 
they come close enough to a steamer to send out a boat. 
The crew of the steamer, discovering the approach 
of this boat, gather up everything they can throw into 
it as it flashes for a moment alongside. Frequently 


372 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


the occupants of the boat throw fresh cod aboard, and 
then there are smiling faces at dinner. It is my opinion, 
however, that any one who would smile at cod would smile 
at anything. 

The most marvellous voyage ever made in the beautiful 
and not always peaceful Pacific Ocean was the one upon 
which the Dora started at an instant’s notice, and by no 
will of her master’s, on the first day of January, 1906. 
Blown from the coast down into the Pacific in a freezing 
storm, she became disabled and drifted helplessly for more 
than two months. 

During that time the weather was the worst ever known 
by seafaring men on the coast. The steamship Santa 
Ana and the United States steamship Rush were sent in 
search of the Dora , and when both had returned without 
tidings, hope for her safety was abandoned. 

Eighty-one days from the time she had sailed from 
Valdez, she crawled into the harbor of Seattle, two thou¬ 
sand miles off her course. She carried a crew of seven 
men and three or four passengers, one of whom was a 
young Aleutian lad of Unalaska. As the Dora was on her 
outward trip when blown to sea, she was well stocked 
with provisions which she was carrying to the islanders ; 
but there was no fuel and but a scant supply of water aboard. 

The physical and mental sufferings of all were ferocious; 
and it was but a feeble cheer that arose from the little ship¬ 
wrecked band when the Dora at last crept up beside the 
Seattle pier. For two months they had expected each 
day to be their last, and their joy was now too deep for 
expression. 

The welcome they received when they returned to their 
regular run among the Aleutian Islands is still described 
by the settlers. 

The Dora reached Kodiak late on a boisterous night; 
but her whistle was heard, and the whole town was on the 




























* 









































































































♦ 






























ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


373 


wharf when she docked, to welcome the crew and to con¬ 
gratulate them on their safety. Some greeted their old 
friends hilariously, and others simply pressed their hands 
in emotion too deep for expression. 

So completely are the people of the smaller places on 
the route cut off from the world, save for the monthly 
visits of the Bora , that they had not heard of her safety. 
When, after supposing her to be lost for two months, 
they beheld her steaming into their harbors, the super¬ 
stitious believed her to be a spectre-ship. 

The greatest demonstration was at Unalaska. A 
schooner had brought the news of her safety to Dutch 
Harbor; from there a messenger was despatched to Un¬ 
alaska, two miles away, to carry the glad tidings to the 
father of the little lad aboard the Bora. 

The news flashed wildly through the town. People in 
bed, or sitting by their firesides, were startled by the fling¬ 
ing open of their door and the shouting of a voice from 
the darkness outside : — 

“ The Bora's safe! ” —but before they could reach the 
door, messenger and voice would be gone — fleeing on 
through the town. 

At last he reached the Jessie Lee Missionary Home, 
at the end of the street, where a prayer-meeting was 
in progress. Undaunted, he flung wide the door, burst 
into the room, shouting, “The Bora's safe!” — and was 
gone. Instantly the meeting broke up, people sprang to 
their feet, and prayer gave place to a glad thanksgiving 
service. 

When the Bora finally reached Unalaska once more, the 
whole town was in holiday garb. Flags were flying, and 
every one that could walk was on the wharf. Children, 
native and white, carried flags which they joyfully waved. 
Their welcome was enthusiastic and sincere, and the men 
on the boat were deeply affected. 


374 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The Lora is not a fine steamship, but she is stanch, 
seaworthy, and comfortable; and the islanders are as at¬ 
tached to her as though she were a thing of flesh and blood. 

No steamer could have a twelve-hundred-mile route 
more fascinating than the one from Valdez to Unalaska. 
It is intensely lovely. Behind the gray cliffs of the 
peninsula float the snow-peaks of the Aleutian Range. 
Here and there a volcano winds its own dark, fleecy tur¬ 
ban round its crest, or flings out a scarlet scarf of flame. 
There are glaciers sweeping everything before them; bold 
headlands plunging out into the sea, where they pause 
with a sheer drop of thousands of feet; and flowery vales 
and dells. There are countless islands — some of them 
mere bits of green floating upon the blue. 

At times a kind of divine blueness seems to swim over 
everything. Wherever one turns, the eye is rested and 
charmed with blue. Sea, shore, islands, atmosphere, and 
sky — all are blue. A mist of it rests upon the snow 
mountains and goes drifting down the straits. It is a warm, 
delicate, luscious blue. It is like the blue of frost-touched 
grapes when the prisoned wine shines through. 

Sand Point, a trading post on Unga Island, is a wild 
and picturesque place. It impressed me chiefly, however, 
by the enormous size of its crabs and starfishes, which I 
saw in great numbers under the wharf. Rocks, timbers, 
and boards were incrusted with rosy-purple starfishes, 
some measuring three feet from the tip of one ray to the 
tip of the ray nearly opposite. Smaller ones were wedged 
in between the rays of the larger ones, so that frequently 
a piling from the wharf to the sandy bottom of the bay, 
which we could plainly see, would seem to be solid 
starfish. 

As for the crabs — they were so large that they were 
positively startling. They were three and four feet from 


ALASKA: THE GEE AT COUNTRY 375 

tip to tip; yet their movements, as they floated in the 
clear green water, were exceedingly graceful. 

Sand Point has a wild, weird, and lonely look. It is just 
the place for the desperate murder that was committed in 
the house that stands alone across the bay, — a dull and 
neglected house with open windows and banging doors. 

“Does no one liVe there?” I asked the storekeeper’s wife. 

“Live there!” she repeated with a quick shudder. 
“No one could be hired at any price to live there.” 

The murdered man had purchased a young Aleutian girl, 
twelve years old, for ten dollars and some tobacco. When 
she grew older, he lived with her and called her his wife. 
He abused her shamefully. A Russian half-breed named 
Gerassenoff — the name fits the story — fell in love with 
the girl, loved her to desperation, and tried to persuade 
her to run away with him. 

She dared not, for fear of the brutal white wretch who 
owned her, body and soul. Gerassenoff, seeing the cru¬ 
elties and abuse to which she was daily subjected, brooded 
upon his troubles until he became partially insane. He 
entered the house when the man was asleep and murdered 
him — foully, horribly, cold-bloodedly. 

Gerassenoff is now serving a life-sentence in the govern¬ 
ment penitentiary on McNeil’s Island; the man he mur¬ 
dered lies in an unmarked grave ; the girl — for the story 
has its touch of awful humor ! — the girl married another 
man within a twelvemonth. 

There is a persistent invitation at Sand Point to the swim¬ 
mer. The temptation to sink down, down, through those 
translucent depths, and then to rise and float lazily with 
the jelly-fishes, is almost irresistible. There is a seductive, 
languorous charm in the slow curve of the waves, as though 
they reached soft arms and wet lips to caress. There are 
more beautiful waters along the Alaskan coast, but none in 
which the very spirit of the swimmer seems so surely to dwell. 


CHAPTER XXXYI 


Belkoffski ! There was something in the name that 
attracted my attention the first time I heard it ; and my 
interest increased with each mile that brought it nearer. 
It is situated on the green and sloping shores of Pavloff 
Bay, which rise gradually to hills of considerable height. 
Behind it smokes the active volcano, Mount Pavloff, with 
whose ashes the hills are in places gray, and whose fires 
frequently light the night with scarlet beauty. 

The Lora anchored more than a mile from shore, and 
when the boat was lowered we joyfully made ready to de¬ 
scend. We were surprised that no one would go ashore 
with us. Important duties claimed the attention of officers 
and passengers ; yet they seemed interested in our prepa¬ 
rations. 

“ Won’t you come ashore with us ? ” we asked. 

“No, I thank you,” they all replied, as one. 

“ Have you ever been ashore here ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, thank you.” 

“ Isn’t it interesting, then ? ” 

“Oh, very interesting, indeed.” 

“ There is something in their manner that I do not like,” 
I whispered to my companion. “ What do you suppose is 
the matter with Belkoffski.” 

“ Smallpox, perhaps,” she whispered back. 

“ I don’t care; I’m going.” 

“ So am I.” 

“ What kind of place is Belkoffski ? ” I asked one of the 
sailors who rowed us ashore. 


376 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


377 


He grinned until it seemed that he would never again 
be able to get his mouth shut. 

“ Jou vill see vot kind oof a blace it ees,” he replied 
luminously. 

“ Is it not a nice place, then ? ” 

“ Jou vill see.” 

We did see. 

The tide was so low and the shore so rocky that we 
could not get within a hundred yards of any land. A 
sailor named “ Nelse ” volunteered to carry us on his back ; 
and as nothing better presented itself for our considera¬ 
tion, we promptly and joyfully went pick-a-back. 

This was my most painful experience in Alaska. My 
father used to make stirrups of his hands; but as Nelse 
did not offer, diffidence kept me from requesting this 
added gallantry of him. It was well that I went first; 
for after viewing my friend’s progress shoreward, had I 
not already been upon the beach, I should never have 
landed at Belkoffski. 

For many years Belkoffski was the centre of the sea- 
otter trade. This small animal, which has the most valu¬ 
able fur in the world, was found only along the rock shores 
of the Aliaska Peninsula and the Aleutian Islands. The 
Shumagins and Sannak islands were the richest grounds. 
Sea-otter, furnishing the court fur of both Russia and 
China, were in such demand that they have been almost 
entirely exterminated — as the fur-bearing seal will soon 
be. 

The fur of the sea-otter is extremely beautiful. It is 
thick and velvety, its rich brown under-fur being remark¬ 
able. The general color is a frosted, or silvery, purplish 
brown. 

The sea-otter frequented the stormiest and most danger¬ 
ous shores, where they were found lying on the rocks, or 
sometimes floating, asleep, upon fronds of an immense 


378 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


kelp which was called “ sea-otter’s cabbage.” The hunters 
would patiently lie in hiding for days, awaiting a favor¬ 
able opportunity to surround their game. 

They were killed at first by ivory spears, which were 
deftly cast by natives. In later years they were captured 
in nets, clubbed brutally, or shot. They were excessively 
shy, and the difficulty and danger of securing them in¬ 
creased as their slaughter became more pitiless. Only 
natives were allowed to kill otter until 1878, when white 
men married to native women were permitted by the Sec¬ 
retary of the Treasury to consider themselves, and to be 
considered, natives, so far as hunting privileges were con¬ 
cerned. 

The rarest and most valuable of otter are the deep-sea 
otter, which never go ashore, as do the “ rock-hobbers,” 
unless driven there by unusual storms. “ Silver-tips ” — 
deep-sea otter having a silvery tinge on the tips of the 
fur — bring the most fabulous prices. 

The hunting of these scarce and precious animals calls 
for greater bravery, hardship, perilous hazard, and actual 
suffering than does the chase of any other fur-bearing 
animal. Pitiful, shameful, and loathsome though the 
slaughter of seals be, it is not attended by the exposure 
and the hourly peril which the otter hunter unflinchingly 
faces. 

Sea-otter swim and sleep upon their backs, with their 
paws held over their eyes, like sleepy puppies, their bodies 
barely visible and their hind flippers sticking up out of 
the water. 

The young are born sometimes at sea, but usually on 
kelp-beds ; and the mother swims, sleeps, and even suckles 
her young stretched at full length in the water upon her 
back. She carries her offspring upon her breast, held in 
her forearms, and has many humanly maternal ways with 
it, — fondling it, tossing it into the air and catching 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


379 


it, and even lulling it to sleep with a kind of purring 
lullaby. 

Both the male and female are fond of their young, caring 
for it with every appearance of tenderness. In making dif¬ 
ficult landings, the male “ hauls out ” first and catches 
the young, which the mother tosses to him. Sometimes, 
when a baby is left alone for a few minutes, it is attacked 
by some water enemy and killed or turned over, when it 
invariably drowns. The mother, returning and finding it 
floating, dead, takes it in her arms and makes every at¬ 
tempt possible to bring it to life. Failing, she utters a 
wild cry of almost human grief and slides down into 
the sea, leaving it. 

The otter hunters used to go out to sea in their bi- 
darkas, with bows, arrows, and harpoons ; several would go 
together, keeping two or three hundred yards apart and 
proceeding noiselessly. When one discovered an otter, 
he would hold his paddle straight up in the air, uttering 
a loud shout. Then all would paddle cautiously about, 
keeping a close watch for the otter, which cannot remain 
under water longer than fifteen or twenty minutes. When 
it came up, the native nearest its breathing place yelled 
and held up his paddle, startling it under the water again 
so suddenly that it could not draw a fair breath. In 
this manner they forced the poor thing to dive again 
and again, until it was exhausted and floated helplessly 
upon the water, when it was easily killed. Frequently 
two or three hours were required to tire an otter. 

This picturesque method of hunting has given place to 
shooting and clubbing the otter to death as he lies asleep 
on the rocks. As they come ashore during the fiercest 
weather, the hunter must brave the most violent storms 
and perilous surfs to reach the otter’s retreat in his frail, 
but beautiful, bidarka. With his gut kamelinka — thin 
and yellow as the “gold-beater’s leaf”—tied tightly 


380 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


around his face, wrists, and the “ man-hole ” in which he 
sits or kneels, his bidarka may turn over and over in the 
sea without drowning him or shipping a drop of water — 
on his lucky days. But the unlucky day comes; an 
accident occurs; and a dark-eyed woman watches and 
waits on the green slopes of Belkoffski for the bidarka 
that does not come. 

There were only women and children in the village of 
Belkoffski that June day. The men — with the exception 
of two or three old ones, who are always left, probably as 
male chaperons, at the village — were away, hunting. 

The beach was alive, and very noisy, with little brown 
lads, half-bare, bright-eyed, and with faces that revealed 
much intelligence, kindness, and humor. 

They clung to us, begging for pennies, which, to our 
very real regret, we had not thought to take with us. 
Candy did not go far, and dimes, even if we had been 
provided with them, would have too rapidly run into 
dollars. 

Long-stemmed violets and dozens of other varieties of 
wild flowers covered the slopes. One little creek flowed 
down to the sea between banks that were of the solid blue 
of violets. 

But the village itself ! With one of the prettiest natural 
locations in Alaska; with singing rills and flowery slopes 
and a volcano burning splendidly behind it; with little 
clean-looking brown lads playing upon its sands, a Greek- 
Russian church in its centre, and a resident priest who 
ought to know that cleanliness is next to godliness — with 
all these blessings, if blessings they all be, Belkoffski is 
surely the most unclean place on this fair earth. 

The filth, ignorance, and apparent degradation of these 
villagers were revolting in the extreme. Nauseous odors 
assailed us. They came out of the doors and windows; 
they swam out of barns and empty sheds ; they oozed up 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 381 

out of the earth; they seemed, even, to sink upon us out 
of the blue sky. The sweetness and the freshness of 
green grass and blowing flowers, of dews and mists, 
of mountain and sea scented winds, are not sufficient to 
cleanse Belkoffski — the Caliban among towns. 

An educated half-breed Aleutian woman, married to a 
white man, accompanied us ashore. She was on her way 
to Unalaska, and had been eager to land at Belkoffski, 
where she was born. 

Her father had been a priest of the Greek-Russian 
church and her mother a native woman. She had told 
us much of the kind-heartedness and generosity of the 
villagers. Her heart was full of love and gratitude to 
them for their tenderness to her when her father, of 
blessed memory, had died. 

“ I have never had such friends since,” she said. “ They 
would do anything on earth for those in trouble, and give 
their own daily food, if necessary. I have never seen 
anything like it since. Education doesn’t put that into 
our hearts. Such sympathy, such tenderness, such un¬ 
derstanding of grief and trouble ! — and the kind of help 
that helps most.” 

If this be the real nature of these people, only the right 
influence is needed to lift them from their degradation. 
The larger children — the brown-limbed, joyous children 
down on the beach — looked clean, probably from spend¬ 
ing much time in the healing sea. 

The people of the islands do not travel much, and our 
fellow-voyager had not been to Belkoffski since she was 
a little girl. For many years she had been living among 
white people, with all the comforts and cleanliness of a 
white woman. I watched her narrowly as we went from 
house to house, looking for baskets. 

We had told her we desired baskets, and she had offered 
to find some for us. After we saw the houses and the 


382 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


women, we would have touched a leper as readily as we 
would have touched one of the baskets that were brought 
out for our inspection; but politeness kept us from ad¬ 
mitting to her our feeling. 

As for her own courtesy and restraint, I have never seen 
them surpassed by any one. Shock upon shock must have 
been hers as we passed through that village of her child¬ 
hood and affection. She went into those noisome hovels 
without the faintest hesitation ; she breathed their atmos¬ 
phere without complaint; she embraced the women with¬ 
out shrinking. 

She knew perfectly why we did not buy the baskets; 
but she received our excuses with every appearance of 
believing them to be sincere, and she offered us others 
with utmost dignity and with the manner of serving us, 
strangers, in a strange land. 

If her delicacy was outraged by the scenes she wit¬ 
nessed, there was not the faintest trace of it visible in her 
manner. She made no excuses for the people, nor for 
their manner of living, nor for the village. Belkoffski 
had been her childhood’s home, her father’s field; its 
people had befriended her and had given her love and 
tenderness when she was in need; therefore, both were 
sacred and beyond criticism. 

When we returned to the ship, she could not have 
failed to hear the jests and frank opinions of Belkoffski 
which were freely expressed among the passengers; but 
her grave, dark face gave no sign that she disapproved, 
or even that she heard. 

A government cutter should be sent to Belkoffski with 
orders to clean it up, and to burn such portions as are past 
cleansing. So far as the Russian priest and the people in 
his charge are concerned, they would be benefited by less 
religion and more cleanliness. 

Dr. Hutton, an army surgeon stationed at Fort Seward 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


383 


on Lynn Canal, and Judge Gunnison, of Juneau, have 
recently made an appeal to President Roosevelt for relief 
for diseased and suffering Indians of Alaska. 

Tuberculosis and trachoma prevail among the many 
tribes and are increasing at an alarming rate, owing to 
the utter lack of sanitation in the villages. Alaskans trav¬ 
elling in the territory are thrown in constant contact 
with the Indians. They are encountered on steamers and 
trains, in stores and hotels. Owing to the pure air and 
the general healthfulness of the northern climate, Alaskans 
feel no real alarm over the conditions prevailing as yet; 
but all feel that the time has arrived when the Indians 
should be cared for. 

Everything purchased of an Indian should be at once 
fumigated — especially furs, blankets, baskets, and every 
article that has been handled by him or housed in one of 
his vile shacks. 

The United States Grand Jury recently recommended 
that medical men be sent by the government to attend the 
- disease-stricken creatures, and that a system of inspection 
and education along sanitary lines — with special stress 
laid upon domestic sanitation — should be established. 

This system should be extended to the last island of the 
Aleutian Chain, and in the interior down the Yukon to 
Nome. The fur trade and the canneries depend largely 
upon the labor of Indians. The former industry could 
scarcely be made successful without them. The Indians 
are rapidly becoming a “ vanishing race ” in the North, as 
elsewhere. For the vices that are to-day responsible for 
their unfortunate condition they are indebted to the white 
men who have kept them supplied with cheap whiskey 
ever since the advent of the first American traders who 
taught them, soon after the purchase of Alaska by the 
United States, to make “hootchenoo” of molasses, flour, 
dried apples, or rice, and hops. This highly intoxicating 


384 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

and degrading liquor was known also as molasses-rum. 
During the latter part of the seventies, six thousand five 
hundred and twenty-four gallons of molasses were de¬ 
livered at Sitka and Wrangell. 

The loss of their help, however, is not so serious — 
being merely a commercial loss — as the danger to civilized 
people by coming in contact with these dreaded diseases. 
An Indian in Alaska whose eyes are not diseased is an 
exception, while the ravages of consumption are very 
frequently visible to the most careless observer. Both 
diseases are aggravated by such conditions as those exist¬ 
ing at Belkoffski. A physician should be stationed there 
for a few years at least, to teach these poor, kind-hearted 
people what the Russian priest has not taught them — the 
science of sanitation. 

Bishop Rowe reports that if there were no missionaries 
to protect the Eskimo and Indians from unscrupulous 
white whiskey-traders, they would survive but a short 
time. When they can obtain cheap liquors the}^ go on 
prolonged and licentious debauches, and are unable to 
provide for their actual physical needs for the long, hard 
winter. Their condition then becomes pitiable, and many 
die of hunger and privation. Prosecutions are made en¬ 
tirely by missionaries. One Episcopal missionary post is 
conducted by two young women, one of whom was for¬ 
merly a society woman of Los Angeles. The post is more 
than a thousand miles from Fairbanks, the nearest city, 
and one hundred and twenty-five miles from the nearest 
white settler. It is owing to the reports and the prosecu¬ 
tions of missionaries in all parts of Alaska that the out¬ 
rages formerly practised upon Eskimo women by licentious 
white traders are on the decrease. 

Federal Commissioner of Education Brown advocates 
a compulsory school law for Alaska. He favors instruc¬ 
tion in modern methods of fishing and of curing fish ; in 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


385 


the care of all parts of walrus that are merchantable ; in 
the handling of wooden boats, the tanning and preparing 
of skins, in coal mining and the elements of agriculture. 

In 1907 fifty-two native schools were maintained in 
Alaska, with two thousand five hundred children enrolled. 
Ten new school buildings have recently been constructed. 

The reindeer service has been one of Alaska’s grave 
scandals, but it has greatly improved during the past year. 

The Eskimo, or Innuit, inhabit a broad belt of the coast 
line bordering on Behring Sea and the Arctic Ocean, as 
well as along the coast “to Westward” from Yakutat; 
also the lower part of the Yukon. 

Lieutenant Emmons, who is one of the highest authori¬ 
ties on the natives of Alaska and their customs, has fre¬ 
quently reported the deplorable condition of the Eskimo, 
and the prevalence of tuberculosis and other dread dis¬ 
eases among them. 

In 1900 an epidemic of measles and la grippe devastated 
the Northwestern Coast. Out of a total population of three 
thousand natives about the mouth of the Kuskokwim, 
fully half died, without medical attendance or nursing, 
within a few months. 

The hospitality and generous kindness of the Eskimo to 
those in need is proverbial. Ever since their subjection 
by the early Russians —to whom, also, they would doubt¬ 
less have shown kindness had they not been afraid of 
them — no shipwrecked mariner has sought their huts in 
vain. Often the entire crew of an abandoned vessel has 
been succored, clothed, and kept from starvation during a 
whole winter — the season when provisions are scarce and 
the Eskimo themselves scarcely know how to find the 
means of existence. 

Along the islands, the rivers, and lakes, nature has 
provided them with food and clothing, if they were but 
educated to make the most of these blessings. 

2c 


386 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


But the vast country bordering the coast between the 
Kuskokwirn and the Yukon, and extending inland a hun¬ 
dred and fifty miles, is low and swampy. This is the 
dreariest portion of Alaska. Tundra, swamps, and slug¬ 
gish rivers abound. There is no game, and the natives 
live on fish and seal. The winters are severe, the climate 
is cold and excessively moist. Food has often failed, and 
the old or helpless are called upon to go alone out upon 
the storm-swept tundra and yield their hard lives—bitter 
and cheerless at the best—that the young and strong may 
live. As late as 1901 Lieutenant Emmons reports that 
this system of unselfish and heart-breaking suicide was 
practised; and it is probably still in vogue in isolated 
places when occasion demands. 

This district is so poor and unprofitable that the pros¬ 
pector and the trader have so far passed it by; yet, by 
some means, the white man’s worst diseases have been 
carried in to them. 

These people are in dire need of schools, hospitals, 
medical treatment, and often simple food and clothing. 

Farther north, on Seward Peninsula and along the 
lower Yukon, the natives who have mingled with the 
miners and traders could easily be taught to be not only 
self-supporting but of real value to the communities in 
which they live. They are intelligent, docile, easily di¬ 
rected, and eager to learn. Lieutenant Emmons found 
that everywhere they asked for schools, that their chil¬ 
dren, to whom they are most affectionately devoted, may 
learn to be “ smart like the white man.” 

They are more humble, dependent, and trustful than the 
Indians, and could easily be influenced. But people do 
not go to Alaska to educate and care for diseased and 
loathsome natives, unless they are paid well for the mis¬ 
sion. So long as the natives obey the laws of the country, 
no one has authority over them. No one is interested in 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 387 

them, or has the time to spare in teaching them. The 
United States government should take care of these peo¬ 
ple. It should take measures to protect them from the 
death-dealing whiskey with which they are supplied; to 
provide them with schools, hospitals, medical care; it 
should supply them with reindeer and teach them to care 
for these animals. 

Surely the government of the United States asks not to 
be informed more than once by such authorities as Lieu¬ 
tenant Emmons, Bishop Rowe, Judge Gunnison, Ex- 
Governor Brady, and Doctor Hutton that these most 
wretched beings on the outskirts of the world are begging 
for education, and that they are sorely in need of medical 
services. 

The government schools in the territory of Alaska are 
supported by a portion of the license moneys levied on the 
various industries of the country. Alaska has an area of 
six hundred thousand square miles and an estimated native 
and half-breed population of twenty-five thousand; and 
for these people only fifty-two schools and as many 
poorly paid teachers ! 

When I have criticised the Russian Church because it 
has not taught these people cleanliness, I blush — remem¬ 
bering how my own government has failed them in needs 
as vital. And when I reflect upon the outrages perpe¬ 
trated upon them by my own fellow-countrymen—who 
have deprived them largely of their means of livelihood, 
robbed them, debauched them, ravished their women, and 
lured away their young girls — when I reflect upon these 
things, my face burns with shame that I should ever 
criticise any other people or any other government than 
my own. 

The recent rapid development of Alaska, and the ap¬ 
propriation of the native food-supplies by miners, traders, 
canners, and settlers, present a problem that must be 


388 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


solved at once. In regard to the Philippines, we were 
like a child with a new toy; we could not play with them 
and experiment with them enough; yet for forty years 
these dark, gentle, uncomplaining people of our most 
northern and most splendid possession — beautiful, glori¬ 
ous Alaska—have been patiently waiting for all that we 
should long ago' have given them: protection, interest, 
and the education and training that would have converted 
them from diseased and wretched beings into decent and 
useful people. 

According to Lieutenant Emmons, the condition of the 
Copper River Indians is exceptionally miserable; and of 
all the native people, either coastal or of the interior, they 
are most needy and in want of immediate assistance. 
Reduced in number to barely two hundred and fifty souls, 
scattered in small communities along the river valleys 
amidst the loftiest mountains of the continent and under 
the most rigid climatic conditions, their natural living has 
been taken from them by the white man, without the 
establishment of any labor market for their self-support 
in return. 

Prior to 1888 they lived in a very primitive state, and 
were, even then, barely able to maintain themselves on the 
not over-abundant game life of the valley, together with 
the salmon coming up the river for spawning purposes. 
The mining excitement of that year brought several thou¬ 
sand men into the Copper River Valley, on their way to 
the Yukon and the Klondike. 

They swept the country clean of game, burnt over vast 
districts, and frequently destroyed what they could not 
use. About the same time the salmon canneries in Prince 
William Sound, having exhausted the home streams, ex¬ 
tended their operations to the Copper River delta, decreas¬ 
ing the Indians’ salmon catch, which had always provided 
them with food for the bitter winters. 

































































ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


389 


These Indians are simple, kind-hearted, and have ever 
been friendly and hospitable to the white man. They re¬ 
spect his cache, although their own has not always been 
respected by him. 

At Copper Centre, which is connected by military 
wagon road with the coast at Valdez, flour sells for twenty- 
four dollars a hundredweight, and all other provisions 
and clothing in proportion; so it may be readily under¬ 
stood that the white people of the interior cannot afford 
to divide their provisions with the starving Indians, else 
they would soon be in the same condition themselves. 
Therefore, for these Indians, too, — fortunately few in 
number,—the government must provide liberally and at 
once. 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


At sunset on the day of our landing at Belkoffski we 
passed the active volcanoes of Pogromni and Shishaldin, 
on the island of Unimak. For years I had longed to see 
Shishaldin; and one of my nightly prayers during the 
voyage had been for a clear and beautiful light in which 
to see it. Not to pass it in the night, nor in the rain, 
nor in the fog; not to be too ill to get on deck in some 
fashion — this had been my prayer. 

For days I had trembled at the thought of missing 
Shishaldin. To long for a thing for years; to think of it 
by day and to dream of it by night, as though it were a 
sweetheart; to draw near to it once, and once only in a 
lifetime — and then, to pass it without one glimpse of its 
coveted loveliness ! — that would be too bitter a fate to be 
endured. 

In a few earnest words, soon after leaving Valdez, I 
had acquainted the captain with my desire. 

It. was his watch when I told him. He was pacing in 
front of the pilot-house. A cigar was set immovably 
between his lips. He heard me to the end and then, with¬ 
out looking at me, smiled out into the golden distance 
ahead of us. 

“ You fix the weather,” said he, “and I’ll fix the moun¬ 
tain.” 

I, or some other, had surely “fixed” the weather. 

No such trip had ever been known by the oldest member 
of the crew. Only one rainy night and one sweet half- 

390 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


391 


cloudy afternoon. For the rest, blue and golden days and 
nights of amethyst. 

But would the captain forget ? The thought always 
made my heart pause; yet there was something in the 
firm lines of his strong, brown face that made it impossi¬ 
ble for me to mention it to him again. 

But on that evening I was sitting in the dining room 
which, when the tables were cleared, was a kind of general 
family living room, when Charlie came to me with his 
angelic smile. 

“ The captain, he say you please come on deck right 
away.” 

I went up the companion-way and stepped out upon the 
deck; and there in the north, across the blue, mist- 
softened sea, in the rich splendor of an Aleutian sunset, 
trembled and glowed the exquisite thing of my desire. 

In the absolute perfection of its conical form, its chaste 
and delicate beauty of outline, and the slender column of 
smoke pushing up from its finely pointed crest, Shishaldin 
stands alone. Its height is not great, only nine thousand 
feet; but in any company of loftier mountains it would 
shine out with a peerlessness that would set it apart. 

The sunset trembled upon the North Pacific Ocean, 
changing hourly as the evening wore on. Through scarlet 
and purple and gold, the mountain, shone; through lav¬ 
ender, pearl, and rose; growing ever more distant and 
more dim, but not less beautiful. At last, it could barely 
be seen, in a flood of rich violet mist, just touched with 
rose. 

So steadily I looked, and with such a longing passion of 
greeting, rapture, possession, and farewell in my gaze and 
in my heart, that lo ! when its last outline had blurred 
lingeringly and sweetly into the rose-violet mist, I found 
that it was painted in all its delicacy of outline and soft 
splendor of coloring upon my memory. There it burns 


392 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

to-day in all its loveliness as vividly as it burned that 
night, ere it faded, line by line, across the widening sea. 
It is mine. I own it as surely as I own the green hill 
upon which I live, the blue sea that sparkles daily be¬ 
neath my windows, the gold-brilliant constellations that 
move nightly above my home, or the song that the meadow¬ 
lark sings to his mate in the April dawn. 

The sea breaks into surf upon Shishaldin’s base, and 
snow covers the slender cone from summit to sea level, 
save for a month or two in summer when it melts around 
the base. Owing to the mists, it is almost impossible to 
obtain a sharp negative of Shishaldin from the water. 

They played with it constantly. They wrapped soft 
rose-colored scarfs about its crest ; they wound girdles of 
purple and gold and pearl about its middle ; they set 
rayed gold upon it, like a crown. Now and then, for a 
few seconds &t a time, they drew away completely, as if 
to contemplate its loveliness ; and then, as if overcome 
and compelled by its dazzling brilliance, they flung them¬ 
selves back upon it impetuously and crushed it for several 
moments completely from our view. 

Large and small, the islands of the Aleutian Archipel¬ 
ago number about one hundred. They drift for nearly 
fifteen hundred miles from the point of the Aliaska Pen¬ 
insula toward the Kamchatkan shore ; and Attu, the last 
one, lies within the eastern hemisphere. This chain of 
islands, reaching as far west as the Komandorski, or Com¬ 
mander, Islands — upon one of which Commander Behr¬ 
ing died and was buried—was named, in 1786, the 
Catherina Archipelago, by Forster, in honor of the liberal 
and enlightened Empress Catherine the Second, of 
Russia. 

The Aleutian Islands are divided into four groups. 
The most westerly are Nearer, or Blizni, Islands, of which 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


393 


the famed Attu is the largest; the next group to east¬ 
ward is known as Rat, or Kreesi, Islands; then, Andrea- 
noffski Islands, named for Andreanoff, who discovered 
them, and whose largest island is Atka, where it is said 
the baskets known as the Attu baskets are now woven. 

East of this group are the Fox, or Leesi, Islands. This 
is the largest of the four Aleutian groups, and contains 
thirty-one islands, including Unimak, which is the largest 
in the archipelago. Others of importance in this group 
are Unalaska, formerly spelled Unalashka; Umnak; 
Akutan; Akhun ; Ukamak; and the famed volcano 
islands of St. John the Theologian, or Joanna Bogoslova, 
and the Four Craters. Unimak Pass, the best known 
and most used passage into Behring Sea, is between 
Unimak and Akhun islands. Akutan Pass is between 
Akutan and Unalaska islands; Umnak Pass, between 
Unalaska and Umnak islands. (These m’s are pronounced 
as though spelled 00 .) 

Unalaska and Dutch Harbor are situated on the Island 
of Unalaska. By the little flower-bordered path leading 
up and down the green, velvety hills, these two settlements 
are fully two miles apart; by water, they seem scarcely 
two hundred yards from one another. The steamer, after 
landing at Dutch Harbor, draws her prow from the wharf, 
turns it gently around a green point, and lays it beside 
the wharf at Unalaska. 

The bay is so surrounded by hills that slope softly to 
the water, that one can scarcely remember which blue 
water-way leads to the sea. There is a curving white 
beach, from which'the town of Unalaska received its 
ancient name of Iliuliuk, meaning “ the beach that curves.” 
The white-painted, red-roofed buildings follow this beach, 
and loiter picturesquely back over the green level to the 
stream that flows around the base of the hills and finds 
the sea at the Unalaska wharf. 


394 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


This is one of the safest harbors in the world. It is 
one great, sparkling sapphire, set deep in solid emerald 
and pearl. It is entered more beautifully than even the 
Bay of Sitka. It is completely surrounded by high 
mountains, peak rising behind peak, and all covered with 
a thick, green, velvety nap and crowned with eternal 
pearl. 

The entrance way is so winding that these peaks have 
the appearance of leaning aside to let us slide through, 
and then drawing together behind us, to keep out the 
storms ; for ships of the heaviest draught find refuge here 
and lie safely at anchor while tempests rage outside. 

Now and then, between two encliantingly green near 
peaks, a third shines out white, far, glistening mistily — 
covered with snow from summit to base, but with a dark 
scarf of its own internal passion twisted about its out¬ 
wardly serene brow. 

The Kuro Siwo, or Japan Current, breaks on the west¬ 
ern end of the Aleutian Chain ; half flows eastward south: 
of the islands, and carries with it the warm, moist atmos¬ 
phere which is condensed on the snow-peaks and sinks 
downward in the fine and delicious mist that gives the 
grass and mosses their vivid, brilliant, perpetual green. 
The other half passes northward into Behring Sea and 
drives the ice back into the “ Frozen Ocean.” Dali was 
told that the whalers in early spring have seen large ice¬ 
bergs steadily sailing northward through the strait at a 
knot and a half an hour, against a very stiff breeze from 
the north. In May the first whalers follow the Kamchat¬ 
kan Coast northward, as the ice melts on that shore earlier 
than on ours. The first whaler to pass East Cape secures 
the spring trade and the best catch of whales. 

The color of the Kuro Siwo is darker than the waters 
through which it flows, and its Japanese name signifies 
“Black Stream.” Passing on down the coast, it carries a 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


39o 


warm and vivifying moisture as far southwest as Oregon. 
It gives the Aleutians their balmy climate. The average 
winter temperature is about thirty degrees above zero ; 
and the summer temperature, from fifty to sixty degrees. 

The volcano Makushin is the noted “ smoker ” of this 
island, and there is a hot spring, containing sulphur, in 
the vicinity, from which loud, cannon-like reports are 
frequently heard. The natives believe that the moun¬ 
tains fought together and that Makushin remained the 
victor. These reports were probably supposed to be 
fired at his command, as warnings of his fortified position 
to any inquisitive peak that might chance to fire a lava 
interrogation-point at him. 

In June, and again in October, of 1778, Cook visited 
the vicinity, anchoring in Samghanooda Harbor. There 
he was visited by the commander of the Russian ex¬ 
pedition in this region, Gregorovich Ismailoff. The 
usual civilities and gifts were exchanged. Cook sent 
the Russian some liquid gifts which were keenly appre¬ 
ciated, and was in return offered a sea-otter skin of 
such value that Cook courteously declined it, accepting, 
instead, some dried fish and several baskets of lily root. 

The Russian settlement was at Iliuliuk, which was dis¬ 
tant several miles from Samghanooda. Several of the 
members of Cook’s party visited the settlement, not¬ 
ably Corporal Ledyard, who reported that it consisted 
of a dwelling-house and two storehouses, about thirty 
Russians, and a number of Kamchatkans and natives who 
were used as servants by the Russians. They all lived 
in the same houses, but ate at three different tables. 

Cook considered the natives themselves the most gentle 
and inoffensive people he had ever “ met with ” in his 
travels; while as to honesty, u they might serve as a 
pattern to the most civilized nation upon earth.” He 
was convinced, however, that this disposition had been 


396 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


produced by the severities at first practised upon them 
by the Russians in an effort to subdue them. 

Cook described them as low of stature, but plump and 
well-formed, dark-eyed, and dark-haired. The women 
wore a single garment, loose-fitting, of sealskin, reaching 
below the knee—the parka ; the men, the same kind of 
garment, made of the skin of birds, with the feathers 
worn against the flesh. Over this garment, the men 
wore another made of gut, which I have elsewhere de¬ 
scribed under the name of kamelinka, or kamelayka. All 
wore “ oval-snouted ” caps made of wood, dyed in colors 
and decorated with glass beads. 

The women punctured their lips and wore bone labrets. 
“ It is as uncommon, at Oonalashka, to see a man with 
this ornament as to see a woman without it,” he adds. 

The chief was seen making his dinner of the raw head 
of a large halibut. Two of his servants ate the gills, 
which were cleaned simply “ by squeezing out the slime.” 
The chief devoured large pieces of the raw meat with as 
great satisfaction as though they had been raw oysters. 

These natives lived in barabaras. (This word is pro¬ 
nounced with the accent on the second syllable; the 
correct spelling cannot be vouched for here, because no 
two authorities spell it in the same way.) 

They were usually made by forming shallow circular 
excavations and erecting over them a framework of drift¬ 
wood, or whale-ribs, with double walls filled with earth 
and stones and covered over with sod. 

The roofs contained square openings in the centre for 
the escape of smoke; and these low earth roofs were used 
by the natives as family gathering places in pleasant 
weather. Here they would sit for hours, doing noth¬ 
ing and gazing blankly at nothing. 

The entrance was through a square hole in, or near, 
the roof. It was reached by a ladder, and descent into 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


397 


the interior was made in the same way, or by means of 
steps cut in a post. A narrow dark tunnel led to the 
inner room, which was from ten to twenty feet in 
diameter. 

These barabaras were sometimes warmed only by lamps ; 
but usually a fire was built in the centre, directly under 
the opening in the roof. Mats and skins were placed on 
shelves, slightly elevated above the floor, around the 
walls. Many persons of both sexes and all ages lived in 
these places; frequently several dwellings were connected 
by tunnels and had one common hole-entrance. The 
filth of these airless habitations was nauseating. 

Their household furniture consisted of bowls, spoons, 
buckets, cans, baskets, and one or two Russian pots ; a 
knife and a hatchet were the only tools they possessed. 

The huts were lighted by lamps made of flat stones 
which were hollowed on one side to hold oil, in which 
dry grass was burned. Both men and women warmed 
their bodies by sitting over these lamps and spreading 
their garments around them. 

The natives used the bidarka here, as elsewhere. 

They buried their dead on the summits of hills, rais¬ 
ing little hillocks over the graves. Cook saw one grave 
covered with stones, to which every one passing added a 
stone, after the manner fancied by Helen Hunt Jackson 
a hundred years later; and he saw several stone hillocks 
that had an appearance of great antiquity. 

In Unalaska to-day may still be seen several barabaras. 
They must be very old, because the native habitations 
of the coast are constructed along the lines of the white 
man’s dwellings at the present time. They add to the 
general quaint and picturesque appearance of the town, 
however. Their sod roofs are overgrown with tall 
grasses, among which wild flowers flame out brightly. 

(Unalaska is pronounced Oo-na-las'-ka, the a’s having 


398 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


the sound of a in arm. Aleutian is pronounced in five 
syllables : A-le-oo'-shi-an, with the same sound of a.) 

The island of Unalaska was sighted by Chirikoff on his 
return to Kamchatka, on the 4th of September, 1741. 

The chronicles of the first expeditions of the Russian 
traders — or promyshleniki, as they were called — are 
wrapped in mystery. But it is believed that as early as 
1744 Emilian Bassof and Andrei Serebrennikof voyaged 
into the islands and were rewarded by a catch of sixteen 
hundred sea-otters, two thousand fur-seals, and as many 
blue foxes. 

Stephan Glottoff was the first to trade with the natives 
of Unalaska, whom he found peaceable and friendly. 
The next, however, Korovin, attempted to make a settle¬ 
ment upon the island, but met with repulse from the 
natives, and several of his party were killed. 

Glottoff returned to his rescue, and the latter’s expedi¬ 
tion was the most important of the earlier ones to the 
islands. On his previous visit he had found the highly 
prized black foxes on the island of Unalaska, and had 
carried a number to Kamchatka. 

I have related elsewhere the story of the atrocities 
perpetrated upon the natives of these islands by the early 
promyshleniki. During the years between 1760 and 1770 
the natives were in active revolt against their oppressors; 
and it was not until the advent of Solovioff the Butcher 
that they were tortured into the mild state of submission 
in which they were found by Cook in 1778, and in which 
they have since dwelt. 

Father Veniaminoff made the most careful study of the 
Aleutians, beginning about 1824. It has been claimed 
that this noble and devout priest was so good that he per¬ 
ceived good where it did not exist; and his statements 
concerning his beloved Aleutians are not borne out by 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


399 


the proinyshleniki. Considering the character of the 
latter, I prefer to believe Veniaminoff. 

The most influential Aleuts were those who were most 
successful in hunting, which seemed to be their highest 
ambition. The best hunters possessed the greatest num¬ 
ber of wives ; and they were never stinted in this luxury. 
Even Veniaminoff, with his rose-colored glasses on, failed 
to discover virtue or the faintest moral sense among them. 

“They incline to sensuality,” he put it, politely. “Be¬ 
fore the teachings of the Christian religion had enlightened 
them, this inclination had full sway. The nearest con¬ 
sanguinity, only, puts limits to their passions. Although 
polygamy was general, nevertheless there were frequently 
secret orgies, in which all joined. . . . The bad example 
and worse teachings of the early Russian settlers increased 
their tendency to licentiousness.” 

Child-murder was rare, owing to the belief that it brought 
misfortune upon the whole village. 

Among the half-breeds, the character of the dark mother 
invariably came out more strongly than that of the Rus¬ 
sian father. They learned readily and intelligently, and 
fulfilled all church duties imposed upon them cheerfully, 
punctually, and with apparent pleasure. 

Under the teaching of Veniaminoff, the Aleuts were 
easily weaned from their early Pantheism, and from their 
savage songs and dances, described by the earlier voyagers. 
They no longer wore their painted masks and hats, al¬ 
though some treasured them in secret. 

The successful hunter, in times of famine or scarcity of 
food, shared with all who were in need. The latter met 
him when his boat returned, and sat down silently on the 
shore. This is a sign that they ask for aid; and the 
hunter supplies them, without receiving, or expecting, 
either restitution or thanks. This generosity is like that 
of the people of Belkoffski; it comes from the heart. 


400 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The Aleutians were frequently intoxicated; but this 
condition did not lead to quarrelling or trouble. Murder 
and attempts at murder were unknown among them. 

If an Aleut were injured, or offended, after the intro¬ 
duction of Christianity, he received and bore the insult in 
silence. They had no oaths or violent epithets in their 
language ; and they would rather commit suicide than to 
receive a blow. The sting that lies in cruel words they 
dreaded as keenly. 

Veniaminoff* found that the Aleuts would steal nothing 
more than a few leaves of tobacco, a few swallows of 
brandy, or a little food; and these articles but rarely. 

The most striking trait of character displayed by the 
Aleut was, and still is, his patience. He never complained, 
even when slowly starving to death. He sat by the shore ; 
and if food were not offered to him, he would not ask. He 
was never known to sigh, nor to groan, nor to shed tears. 

These people were found to be very sensitive, however, 
and capable of deep emotion, even though it was never re¬ 
vealed in their faces. They were exceedingly fond of, 
and tender with, their children, and readily interpreted a 
look of contempt or ridicule, which invariably offended in 
the highest degree. 

The most beautiful thing recorded of the Aleut is that 
when one has done him a favor or kindness, and has after¬ 
ward offended him, he does not forget the former favor, 
but permits it to cancel the offence. 

They scorn lying, hypocrisy, and exaggeration; and 
they never betray a secret. They are so hospitable that 
they will deny themselves to give to the stranger that is 
in need. They detest a braggart, but they never dispute 
— not even when they know that their own opinion is the 
correct one. 

Veniaminoff admitted that the Aleuts who had lived 
among the Russians were passionately addicted to the use 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


401 


of liquor and tobacco. But even with their drunkenness, 
their uncleanness, and their immorality, the Aleutian char¬ 
acter seems to have possessed so many admirable, and even 
unusual, traits that, if the training and everyday influ¬ 
ences of these people had been of a different nature from 
what they have been since they lost Veniaminoff, they 
would have, ere this, been able to overcome their inherited 
and acquired vices, and to have become useful and desir¬ 
able citizens. 

They were formerly of a revengeful nature, but after 
coming under the influence of Veniaminoff, no instance of 
revenge was discovered by him. 

They learned readily, with but little teaching, not only 
mechanical things, but those, also, which require deep 
thought — such as chess, at which they became experts. 

One became an excellent navigator, and made charts 
which were followed by other voyagers for many years. 
Others worked skilfully in ivory, and the dark-eyed women 
wove their dreams into the most precious basketry of the 
world. 


2d 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


We sailed into the lovely bay of Unalaska on the fourth 
day of July. The entire village, native and white, had 
gone on a picnic to the hills. 

We spent the afternoon loitering about the deserted 
streets and the green and flowery hills. One could sit 
contentedly for a week upon the hills,—as the natives used 
to sit upon the roofs of their barabaras,—doing nothing 
but looking down upon the idyllic loveliness shimmering 
in every direction. 

In the centre of the town rises the Greek-Russian church, 
green-roofed and bulbous-domed, adding the final touch 
of mysticism and poetry to this already enchanting scene. 

At sunset the mists gathered, slowly, delicately, beauti¬ 
fully. They moved in softly through the same strait by 
which we had entered—little rose-colored masses that 
drifted up to meet the violet-tinted ones from the other 
end of the bay. In the centre of the water valley they 
met and mixed together, and, in their new and more mar¬ 
vellous coloring, pushed up about the town and the lower 
slopes. Out of them lifted and shone the green roof and 
domes of the church ; more brilliantly above them, napped 
thick and soft as velvet, glowed the hills; and more lus¬ 
trously against the saffron sky flashed the pearl of the 
higher peaks. 

There was a gay dinner party aboard the Bora that night. 
Afterward, we all attended a dance. There was only one 

402 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


403 


white woman in the hall besides my friend and myself; 
and we three were belles ! We danced with every man 
who asked us to dance, to the most wonderful music I have 
ever heard. One of the musicians played a violin with his 
hands and a French harp with his mouth, both at the same 
time—besides making quite as much noise with one foot 
as he did with both of the instruments together. 

There were several good-looking Aleutian girls at the 
dance. They had pretty, slender figures, would have 
been considered well dressed in any small village in 
the states, and danced with exceeding grace and ease. 

We went to this dance not without some qualms of 
various kinds; but we went for the same reason that 
“Cyanide Bill” told us he had journeyed three times 
to the shores of the “Frozen Ocean”— “just to see.” 

Toward midnight a pretty and stylishly gowned young 
woman came in with an escort and joined in the dan¬ 
cing. As she whirled past us, with diamonds flashing 
from her hands, ears, and neck, my inquiring Scotch 
friend asked a gentleman with whom she was dancing, 
“Who is the pretty dark-eyed lady? We have not 
seen her before.” 

She was completely extinguished for some time by 
his reply, given with the cheerful frankness of the 
North. 

“Oh, that’s Nelly, miss. I don’t know any other 
name for her. We just always call her Nelly, miss.” 

We returned to the steamer, leaving “ Nelly ” to twinkle 
on. Our curiosity was entirely satisfied. We went “to 
see,” and we had seen. 

Captain Gray might be called “the lord of Unalaska.” 
He is the “ great gentleman ” of the place. He has for 
many years managed the affairs of the Alaska Commer¬ 
cial Company, and he has acted as host to almost every 
traveller who has voyaged to this lovely isle. 


404 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


After supper, which was served on the steamer at mid¬ 
night, we were invited to his home “ to finish the evening.” 

“ At one o’clock in the morning! ” gasped my com¬ 
panion. 

“ Hours don’t count up here,” said our captain. “ It is 
broad daylight. Besides, it is the 4th of July. I think 
we should accept the invitation.” 

We did accept it, in the same spirit in which it was 
given, and it was one of the most profitable of evenings. 
We found a home of comfort and refinement in the 
farthest outpost of civilization in the North Pacific. 
The hours were spent pleasantly with good music, sing¬ 
ing, and reading; and delicate refreshments were served. 

The sun shone upon my friend’s scandalized face as we 
returned to our steamer. It was nearly five o’clock. 

“ I know it was innocent enough,” said she, “ but think 
how it sounds! — a dance, with only three white women 
present — not to mention ‘Nelly’!—a midnight supper, 
and then an invitation to ‘ finish the evening ’! It sounds 
like one of Edith Wharton’s novels.” 

“ It’s Alaska,” said the captain. “ You want local color 
— and you’re getting it. But let me tell you that you 
have never been safer in your life than you have been 
to-night.” 

“ Safe ! ” echoed she. “ I’m not talking about the safety 
of it. It’s th zform of it.” 

“ Form doesn’t count, as yet, in the Aleutians,” said the 
captain. “‘There’s never a law of God or man runs 
north of fifty-three ! ’ ” 

“ There’s surely never a social law runs north of it,” 
was the scornful reply. 

The next morning we went to the great warehouses of 
the company, to look at old Russian samovars. Captain 
Gray personally escorted us through their dim, cob¬ 
webby, high-raftered spaces. There was one long counter 



Copyright by E. A. IIegg, Juneau Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

Dog-team Express, Nome 






































































































































































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 405 

covered with samovars, and we began eagerly to examine 
and price them. 

The cheapest was twenty-five dollars ; and the most 
expensive, more than a hundred. 

“ But they are all sold,” added Captain Gray, gloomily. 

“ All sold ! ” we exclaimed, in a breath. “What— all? 
Every one? ” 

“ Yes; every one,” he answered mournfully. 

“ Why, how very odd,” said I, “for them all to be sold, 
and all to be left here.” 

“Yes,” said he, sighing. “The captain of a govern¬ 
ment cutter bought them for his friends in Boston. He 
has gone on up into Behring Sea, and will call for them 
on his return.” 

Far be it from me to try to buy anything that is not for 
sale. I thanked him politely for showing them to us ; and 
we went on to another part of the warehouse. 

We found nothing else that was already “sold.” We 
bought several holy-lamps, baskets, and other things. 

“ I’m sorry about the samovars,” said I, as I paid 
Captain Gray. 

“So am I,” said he. Then he sighed. “There’s one, 
now,” said he, after a moment, thoughtfully. “ I might — 
Wait a moment.” 

He disappeared, and presently returned with a perfect 
treasure of a samovar, — old, battered, green with age and 
use. We went into ecstasies over it. 

“ I’ll take it,” I said. “ How much is it ? ” 

“ It was twenty-five dollars,” said he, dismally. “ It is 
sold.” 

“ How very peculiar,” said my companion, as we went 
away, “to keep bringing out samovars that are sold.” 

For two years my thoughts reverted at intervals to 
those “ sold ” samovars at Unalaska. Last summer I 
went down the Yukon. At St. Michael I was enter- 


406 ALASKA: THE GREAT COtJNTRY 

tained at the famous “ Cottage ” for several days. One 
day at dinner I asked a gentleman if he knew Captain 
Gray. 

“Of Unalaska? ” exclaimed two or three at once. Then 
they all burst out laughing. 

“We all know him,” one said. “Everybody knows 
him.” 

“ But why do you laugh ? ” 

« Oh, because he is so 4 slick ’ at taking in a tourist.” 

“ In what manner? ” asked I, stiffly. I remembered that 
Captain Gray had asked me if I were a tourist. 

They all laughed again. 

“ Oh, especially on samovars.” 

My face burned suddenly. 

“On samovars! ” 

“Yes. You see he gets a tourist into his warehouses and 
shows him samovar after samovar — fifty or sixty of them 
— and tells him that every one is sold. He puts on the 
most mournful look. 

“ 4 This one was twenty-five dollars,’ he says. 4 A 
captain on a government cutter bought them to take to 
Boston.’ Then the tourist gets wild. He offers five, ten, 
twenty dollars more to get one of those samovars. He 
always gets it; because, you see, Gray wants to sell it to 
him even worse than he wants to buy it. It always 
works.” 

We walked over the hills to Dutch Harbor—once 
called Lincoln Harbor. There is a stretch of blue water 
to cross, and we were ferried over by a gentleman having 
much Fourth-of-July in his speech and upon his breath. 

His efforts at politeness are remembered joys, while a 
sober ferryman would have been forgotten long ago. But 
the sober ferrymen that morning were like the core of the 
little boy’s apple. 


A LA SKA : TIIE GREA T CO UN TR Y 


407 


It was the most beautiful walk of my life.' A hard, 
narrow, white path climbed and wound and fell over the 
vivid green hills; it led around lakes that lay in the hol¬ 
lows like still, liquid sapphire, set with the pearl of 
clouds; it lured through banks of violets and over slopes 
of trembling bluebells; it sent out tempting by-paths that 
ended in the fireweed’s rosy drifts; but always it led on 
— narrow, well-trodden, yet oh, so lonely and so still! 
Birds sang and the sound of the waves came to us — 
that was all. Once a little brown Aleutian lad came 
whistling around the curve in the path, stood still, and 
gazed at us with startled eyes as soft and dark as a 
gazelle’s; but he was the only human being we saw 
upon the hills that day. 

We saw acres that were deep blue with violets. They 
were large enough to cover silver half-dollars, and their 
stems were several inches in length. Fireweed grew low, 
but the blooms were large and of a deep rose color. 

Standing still, we counted thirteen varieties of wild 
flowers within a radius of six feet. There were the snap¬ 
dragon, wild rose, columbine, buttercup, Solomon’s seal, 
anemone, larkspur, lupine, dandelion, iris, geranium, 
monk’s-hood, and too many others to name, to be found 
on the hills of Unalaska. There are more than two 
thousand varieties of wild flowers in Alaska and the Yukon 
Territory. The blossoms are large and brilliant, and they 
cover whole hillsides and fill deep hollows with beautiful 
color. The bluebells and violets are exquisite. The 
latter are unbelievably large ; of a rich blue veined with 
silver. They poise delicately on stems longer than those 
of the hot-house flower ; so that we could gather and carry 
armfuls of them. 

The site of Dutch Harbor is green and level. Fronting 
the bay are the large buildings of the North American 


408 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Commercial Company, with many small frame cottages 
scattered around them. All are painted white, with 
bright red roofs, and the town presents a clean and at¬ 
tractive appearance. 

Dutch Harbor is the prose, and Unalaska the poetry, of 
the island. There is neither a hotel nor a restaurant at 
either place. It was one o’clock when we reached Dutch 
Harbor; we had breakfasted early, and we sought, in vain, 
for some building that might resemble an “eating-house.” 

We finally went into the big store, and' meeting the 
manager of the company, asked to be directed to the 
nearest restaurant. 

He smiled. 

“ There isn’t any,” he said. 

“ Is there no place where one may get something to eat ? 
Bread and milk? We saw cows upon the hills.” 

“ You would not care to go to the native houses,” he re¬ 
plied, still smiling. “ But come with me.” 

He led the way along a neat board walk to a residence 
that would attract attention in any town. It was large 
and of artistic design. 

“It was designed by Molly Garfield,” the young man 
somewhat proudly informed us. “ Her husband was con¬ 
nected with the company for several years, and they built 
and lived in this house.” 

The house was richly papered and furnished. It was 
past the luncheon hour, but we were excellently served by 
a perfectly trained Chinaman. 

For more than a hundred years the great commercial 
companies — beginning with the Shelikoff Company — 
have dispensed the hospitality of Alaska, and have acted 
as hosts to the stranger within their gates. The managers 
are instructed to sell provisions at reasonable prices, and 
to supply any one who may be in distress and unable to 
pay for food. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


409 


They frequently entertain, as guests of the company 
they represent, travellers to these lonely places, not be¬ 
cause the latter are in need, but merely as a courtesy ; 
and their hospitality is as free and generous — but not as 
embarrassing — as that of Baranoff. 

That night I sat late alone upon the hills, on a tundra 
slope that was blue with violets. I could not put my 
hand down without crushing them. The lights moving 
across Unalaska were as poignantly interesting as the 
thoughts that come and go across a stranger’s face when 
he does not know that one is observing. 

All the lights and shadows of the vanishing Aleutian 
race seemed to be moving across the hills, the village, the 
blue bay. 

Scarcely a day has passed that I have not gone back 
across the blue and emerald water-ways that stretch be¬ 
tween, to that lovely place and that luminous hour. 

Perhaps, I thought, Veniaminoff may have looked down 
upon this exquisite scene from this same violeted spot — 
Veniaminoff, the humble, devout, and devoted missionary, 
whom I should rather have been than any man or woman 
whose history I know ; Veniaminoff, who lived — instead 
of wrote — a great, a sublime, poem. 

Unalaska’s commercial glory has faded. It was once 
port of entry for all vessels passing in or out of Behring 
Sea ; the ships of the Arctic whaling fleet called here for 
water, coal, supplies, and mail ; during the years that the 
modus vivendi was in force it was headquarters of the 
United States and the British fleets patrolling Behring 
Sea, and lines of captured sealers often lay here at 
anchor. 

During the early part of the present decade Unalaska 
saw its most prosperous times. Thousands of people 
waited here for transportation to the Klondike, via St. 


410 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Michael and the Yukon. Many ships were built here, 
and one still lies rotting upon the ways. 

The Greek church is second in size and importance to 
the one at Sitka only, and the bishop once resided here. 
There is a Russian parish school, a government day-school, 
and a Methodist mission, the Jessie Lee Home. The 
only white women on the island reside at the Home. The 
bay has frequently presented the appearance of a naval 
parade, from the number of government and other vessels 
lying at anchor. 

No traveller will weary soon of Unalaska. There are 
caves and waterfalls to visit, and unnumbered excursions 
to make to beautiful places among the hills. Especially 
interesting is Samghanooda, or English, Harbor, where 
Cook mended his ships ; while Makushin Harbor, on the 
western coast, where Glottoff and his Russians first landed 
in 1756, is only thirty miles away. 

The great volcano itself is easy of ascent, and the view 
from its crest is one of the memories of a lifetime. 
Borka, a tiny village at Samghanooda, is as noted for its 
Dutcli-like cleanliness as Belkoffski is for its filth. 

The other islands of the Aleutian chain drift on to 
westward, lonely, unknown — almost, if not entirely, un¬ 
inhabited. Now and then a small trading settlement is 
found, which is visited only by Captain Applegate, — the 
last remaining white deep-sea otter hunter,— and once a 
year by a government cutter, or the Russian priest from 
Unalaska, or a shrewd and wandering trader. 

These green and unknown islands are the islands of my 
dreams — and dreams do “ come true ” sometimes. This 
voyage out among the Aleutians is the most poetic and 
enchanting in the world to-day; and I shall never be 
entirely happy until I have drifted on out to the farthest 
island of Attu, lying within the eastern hemisphere, and 
watched those lonely, dark women, with the souls of poets 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


411 


and artists and the patience of angels, weaving their 
dreams into ravishing beauty and sending them out into 
the world as the farewell messages of a betrayed and van¬ 
ishing people. As we treat them for their few remaining 
years, so let us in the end be treated. 

Alaska is to-day the centre of the world’s volcanic ac¬ 
tivity, and the mountainous appearances and disappear¬ 
ances that have been recorded in the Aleutian Islands 
are marvellous and awesome. To these upheavals in the 
North Pacific and Behring Sea Whidbey’s adjectives, 
“stupendous,” “tremendous,” and “awfully dreadful,” 
might be appropriately applied. 

On July the fourth, 1907, officers of the revenue cutter 
McCulloch discovered the new peak which they named in 
honor of their vessel. It was in the vicinity of the fa¬ 
mous volcano of Joanna Bogoslova, or Saint John the 
Theologian. 

In 1796 the natives of Unalaska and the adjoining 
islands for many miles were startled by violent reports, 
like continued cannonading, followed by frightful trem¬ 
blings of the earth upon which they stood. 

A dense volume of smoke, ashes, and gas descended 
upon them in a kind of cloud, and shut everything from 
their view. They were thus enveloped and cannonaded 
for about ten days, when the atmosphere gradually cleared 
and they observed a bright light shining upon the sea 
from thirty to forty miles north of Unalaska. The brave 
ones of the island went forth in bidarkas and discovered 
that a small island had risen from the sea to a height of 
one hundred feet and that it was still rising. 

This was the main peak of the Bogosloff group, and it 
continued to grow until 1825, wdien it reached a height of 
about three hundred feet and cooled sufficiently for Rus¬ 
sians to land upon it for the first time. The heat was 


412 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


still so intense, however, and the danger from running 
lava so great, that they soon withdrew to their boats. 

In the early eighties, after similar disturbances, another 
peak arose near the first and joined to it by a low isthmus, 
upon which stood a rock seventy feet in height, which was 
named Ship-Rock. In 1891 the isthmus sank out of sight 
in the sea, and a new peak arose. 

Since then no important changes have occurred. The 
peaks themselves remained too hot and dangerous for ex¬ 
amination; but the short voyage out from Unalaska has 
been a favorite one for tourists who were able to land 
upon the lower rocks and spend a day gathering speci¬ 
mens and studying the sea-lions that doze in polygamous 
herds in the warmth, and the shrieking murres that nest 
in the cliffs and cover them like a tremulous gray-white 
cloud. 

Every inch of space on these cliffs seems to be taken 
by these birds for the creation of life. On every tiniest 
shelf they perch upright, black-backed and white-bellied, 
brooding their eggs — although these hot and steamy cliffs 
are sufficient incubators to bring forth life out of every 
egg deposited upon them. When the murres are sud¬ 
denly disturbed, their eggs slip from their hold and plunge 
down the cliffs, splattering them with the yellow of their 
broken yolks. 

The last week in July, 1907, I passed close to the 
Bogosloff Islands, which had grown to the importance 
of four peaks. Three days later a violent earthquake 
occurred in this vicinity. Once more dense clouds of 
smoke descended upon Unalaska and the adjoining islands, 
and ashes poured upon the sea and land, as far north as 
Nome, covering the decks of passing steamers to a depth 
of several inches, and affecting sailors so powerfully that 
they could only stay on deck for a few moments at a time. 

On September the first, the captain and men of the 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


413 


whaler Herman , passing the Bogosloff group, beheld a 
sight to observe which I would cheerfully have yielded 
several years of life. They saw the two-months-old 
McCulloch peak burn itself down into the sea, with vast 
columns of steam ascending miles into the air above it, 
and the waters boiling madly on all sides. It went down, 
foot by foot, and the men stood spellbound, watching it 
disappear. For miles around the sea was violently agi¬ 
tated and was mixed with volcanic ash, which also covered 
the decks, and at intervals steam poured up unexpectedly 
out of the ocean. 

As soon as possible the revenue cutter Buffalo went to 
the wonderful volcanic group, and it was found that their 
whole appearance was changed. 

There were three peaks where four had been; but 
whereas they had formerly been separate and distinct 
islands, they were now connected and formed one island. 

This island is two and a half miles long. Perry Peak, 
which arose in 1906, had increased in height ; and there 
was a crater-like depression on its south side, around 
which the waters were continually throwing off vast clouds 
of steam and smoke. Captain Pond reported that rocks 
as large as a house were constantly rolling down from 
Perry Peak, and that the whole scene was one of wonder¬ 
ful interest. To his surprise, the colony of sea-lions, which 
must have been frightened away, had returned, and seemed 
to be enjoying the steamy heat on the rocks of the main 
and oldest peak of the group. 

The disappearance of McCulloch peak was accompanied 
by earthquake shocks as far to eastward as Sitka. 
Makushin, the great volcano of Unalaska, and others, 
smoked violently, and ashes fell over the Aleutian Islands 
and the mainland. At the same time uncharted rocks 
began to make their appearance all along the coast, to the 
grave danger of navigation. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


In the heart of Behring Sea, about two hundred miles 
north of Unalaska, lie two tiny cloud and mist haunted 
and wind-racked islands which are the great slaughter- 
grounds of Alaska. Here, for a hundred and twenty 
years, during the short seal season each year, men have 
literally waded through the bloody gore of the helpless 
animals, which they have clubbed to death by thousands 
that women may be handsomely clothed. 

The surviving members of Vitus Behring’s ill-starred 
expedition carried back with them a large number of 
skins of the valuable sea-otter. From that date — 1T42 — 
until about 1T70 the promyshleniki engaged in such an 
unresting slaughter of the otter that it was almost exter¬ 
minated. 

In desperation, they turned, then, to the chase of the 
fur-seal, and for years sought in vain for the rumored 
breeding-grounds of this pelagic animal. The islands of 
St. Paul and St. George were finally discovered in 1786, 
by Gerassim Pribyloff, who heard,the seals barking and roar¬ 
ing through the heavy fogs, and, sailing cautiously on, 
surprised them as they lay in polygamous groups by the 
million upon the rocky shores. 

Pribyloff was the son of a sailor who had accompanied 
Behring on the St. Peter. He modestly named his price¬ 
less discovery “ Subov,” for the captain and part owner 
of the trading association for which he worked. He him¬ 
self was not engaged in sealing, but was simply the first 

414 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


415 


mate of the sloop St. George. The Russians, however, 
renamed the islands for their discoverer; and happily the 
name has endured. 

St. George Island is ten miles in length by from two 
to four in width. It is higher than the larger St. Paul, 
which lies twenty-seven miles farther north, and rises 
more abruptly from the water. 

The temperature of these islands is not low, rarely fall¬ 
ing to zero; but the wind blows at so great velocity that 
frequently for days at a time the natives can only go from 
one place to another by crawling upon their hands and 
knees. 

To conserve the sealing industry, after the purchase of 
Alaska, the exclusive privilege of killing seals on these 
islands was granted to the Alaska Commercial Company 
for a period of twenty years. When this lease expired in 
1890, a new one was made out for a like period to the 
North American Commercial Company, which still holds 
possession. The company has agents on both islands, and 
the government maintains an agent and his assistant on 
St. Paul Island, and an assistant on St. George, to enforce 
the terms of the concession. 

When the Russians first took possession of the Pribyloff 
Islands, they brought several hundred Aleutians and 
established them upon the islands in sod houses, where 
they were held under the usual slave-like conditions of 
this abused people. They were miserably housed and 
fed, received only the smallest wage, — from which they 
were compelled to contribute to the support of the church, 
— and were held, against their wishes, upon these dreary 
and inhospitable shores. 

With the coming of the American companies all was 
changed. Comfortable, clean habitations of frame were 
erected for them ; their pay was increased from ten to 
forty cents each for the removal of pelts; schools and 


416 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


hospitals were provided, children being compelled to at¬ 
tend the former; and the sale of intoxicating liquors was 
prohibited. There are between a hundred and fifty and 
two hundred natives on the islands at present. 

The houses are lined with tar paper, painted white, with 
red roofs, and furnished with stoves. There are streets 
and large storehouses, and the village presents an at¬ 
tractive appearance. 

As a result of good care, food, and cleanliness, the 
natives are able to do twice the amount of work accom¬ 
plished by the same number under the old conditions. 
They are healthier, happier, and more industrious. 

The value of the fur-seal catch from the time of the 
purchase of Alaska to the early part of the present decade 
was more than thirty-five millions of dollars. In 1903 
the yearly catch, however, had dwindled from two millions 
at the time of discovery to twenty-two thousands. 

Indiscriminate and reckless slaughter, and particularly 
die pelagic sealing carried on by poachers — it being im¬ 
possible to distinguish the males fron the females at sea — 
have nearly exterminated the seals. They will soon be 
as rare as the sea-otter, which vanished for the same shame¬ 
less reasons. In the government’s lease it is provided 
that not more than one hundred thousand seals shall be 
taken in a single year; but of recent years the catch has 
fallen so far short of that number that the annual rental, 
which was first set at sixty thousand dollars, has had a 
sliding, diminishing scale until it has finally reached 
twelve thousand dollars. 

Great trouble has been experienced with pelagic sealers. 
Pelagic sealing means simply following the seals on their 
way north and killing them in the deep sea before they 
reach the breeding-grounds. There have been American 
poachers, but the majority have been Canadians. The 
United States government at first claimed exclusive rights 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


417 


to the seals, and patrolled the waters of Behring Sea, as 
inland waters, frequently seizing vessels belonging to other 
nations. 

The matter, after much bitter feeling on both sides, 
was finally submitted to the “ Paris Tribunal,” which did 
not allow our claim to exclusive sealing rights in Behring 
Sea. It, however, forbade pelagic sealing within a zone of 
sixty miles of the Pribyloff islands. 

These waters are now patrolled by vessels of both na¬ 
tions; but Japanese vessels are frequently transgressors, 
the Japanese claiming that they are not bound by the 
regulations of the Paris Tribunal. Both British and Ameri¬ 
can sealers have been known to fly the Japanese flag when 
engaged in pelagic sealing in forbidden waters. Trouble 
of a serious nature with Japan may yet arise over this 
matter. 

The habits and the life of the seal are exceedingly interest¬ 
ing. In many ways these graceful creatures are startlingly 
human-like, particularly in their appealing, reproachful 
looks when a death-dealing blow is about to be struck. 
Some, it is true, yield to a violent, fighting rage, — grow¬ 
ing more furious as their helplessness is realized, — and at 
such times the eyes flame with the green and red fire of 
hate and passion, and resemble the eyes of a human being 
possessed with rage and terror. 

The bull seals have been called “beach-masters,” 
“polygamists,” and “harem-lords.” 

These old bulls, then, are the first to return to the 
breeding-grounds in the spring. They begin to “ haul out ” 
upon the rocks during the first week in May. Each lo¬ 
cates upon his chosen “ground,” and awaits the arrival of 
the females, which does not occur until the last of June. 
While awaiting their arrival, incessant and terrible fight¬ 
ing takes place among the bulls, frequently to the death — 
so stubbornly and so ferociously does each struggle to 


418 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


retain the place he has selected in which to receive the 
females of his harem. The older the bull the more suc¬ 
cessful is he both in love and in war; and woe betide any 
young and bold bachelor who dares to pause for but an 
instant and cast tempting glances at a gay and coquettish 
young favorite under an old bull’s protection. There is 
instant battle — in which the festive bachelor invariably 
goes down. 

When the females arrive, a very orgy of fighting takes 
place. An old bull swaggers down to the water, receives 
a graceful and beautiful female, and beguiles her to his 
harem. If he but turn his back upon her for an instant 
another bull seizes her and bears her bodily to his harem; 
the first bull returns, and the fight is on — the female 
sometimes being torn to pieces between them, because 
neither will give her up. The bulls do not mind a small 
matter like that, however, there being so many females; 
and it is never the desire for a special female that impels 
to the fray, but the human-like lust to triumph over one 
who dares to set himself up as a rival. 

The old bulls take possession of the lower rocks, and 
these they hold from all comers, yet fighting, fighting, 
fighting, till they are frequently but half-alive masses of 
torn flesh and fur. 

The bachelors are at last forced, foot by foot, past the 
harems to the higher grounds, where they herd alone. 
As they are supposed to be the only seals killed for their 
skin, they are forced by the drivers away from the vicin¬ 
ity of the rookeries, to the higher slopes. 

These graceful creatures drag themselves on shore with 
pitiable awkwardness and helplessness. They proceed 
painfully, with a kind of rolling movement, uttering 
plaintive sounds that are neither barks nor bleats. They 
easily become heated to exhaustion, and pause at every 
opportunity to rest. When they sink down for this pur- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


419 


pose, they either separate their hind flippers, or draw 
them both to one side. 

They are driven carefully and are permitted frequent 
rests, as heating ruins the fur. They usually rest and 
cool off, after reaching the killing grounds, while the men 
are eating breakfast. By seven o’clock the butchery begins. 

The seals are still brutally clubbed to death. The 
killers are spattered with blood and bloody tufts of hair; 
and by-standers are said to have been horribly pelted by 
eyeballs bursting like bullets from the sockets, at the 
force of the blows. The killers aim to stun at the first 
blow; but the poor things are often literally beaten to 
death. In either event a sharp stabbing-knife is in¬ 
stantly run to its heart, to bleed it. The crimson life- 
stream gushes forth, there is a violent quivering of the 
great, jelly-like bulk; then, all is still. It is no longer a 
living, beautiful, pleading-eyed animal, but only a portion 
of some dainty gentlewoman’s cloak. I have not seen it 
with my own eyes, but I have heard, in ways which make 
me refuse to discredit it, that sometimes the skinning is 
begun before the seal is dead; that sometimes the razor¬ 
like knife is run down the belly before it is run to the 
heart — not in useless cruelty, but because of the great 
need of haste. The tender, beseeching eyes, touching cries, 
and unavailing attempts to escape, of the seal that is being 
clubbed to death, are things to remember for the rest of one’s 
life. Strong men, unused to the horrible sight, flee from it, 
sick and tortured with the pity of it; and surely no woman 
who has ever beheld it could be tempted to buy sealskin. 

No effort is made to dispose of the dead bodies of the 
seals. They are left where they are killed, and the stench 
arising therefrom is not surpassed even in Belkoffski. It 
nauseates the white inhabitants of the islands, and drifts 
out to sea for miles to meet and salute the visitor. It is, 
however, caviar to the native nostril. 


CHAPTER XL 


Authorities differ as to the proper boundaries of 
Bristol Bay, but it may be said to be the vast indentation 
of Behring Sea lying east of a line drawn from Unimak 
Island to the mouth of the Kuskokwim River ; or, pos¬ 
sibly, from Scotch Cap to Cape Newenham would be 
better. The commercial salmon fisheries of this district 
are on the Ugashik, Egegak, Naknek, Kvichak, Nushagak, 
and Wood rivers and the sea-waters leading to them. 

Nushagak Bay is about fifteen miles long and ten wide. 
It is exceedingly shallow, and is obstructed by sand-bars 
and shoals. The Redoubt-Alexandra was established at 
the mouth of the river in 1834 by Kolmakoff. 

The rivers are all large and, with one exception,— 
Wood River, — drain the western slope of the Aleutian 
Chain which, beginning on the western shore of Cook 
Inlet, extends down the Aliaska Peninsula, crowning it 
with fire and snow. 

There are several breaks in the range which afford easy 
portages from Bristol Bay to the North Pacific. The 
rivers flowing into Bristol Bay have lake sources and 
have been remarkably rich spawning-streams for salmon. 

The present chain of islands known as the Aleutians is 
supposed to have once belonged to the peninsula and to 
have been separated by volcanic disturbances which are 
so common in the region. 

The interior of the Bristol Bay country has not been 
explored. It is sparsely populated by Innuit, or Eskimo, 

420 





























































ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


421 


who live in primitive fashion in small settlements, — usu¬ 
ally on high bluffs near a river. They make a poor living 
by hunting and fishing. Their food is largely salmon, 
fresh and dried; game, seal, and walrus are delicacies. 
The “ higher ” the food the greater delicacy is it con¬ 
sidered. Decayed salmon-heads and the decaying carcass 
of a whale that has been cast upon the beach, by their 
own abominable odors summon the natives for miles to a 
feast. Their food is all cooked with rancid oil. 

Their dwellings are more primitive than those of the 
island natives, for they have clung to the barabaras and 
other ancient structures that were in use among the 
Aleutians when the Russians first discovered them. Near 
these dwellings are the drying-frames — so familiar along 
the Yukon — from which hang thousands of red-fleshed 
salmon drying in the sun. Little houses are erected on 
rude pole scaffoldings, high out of the reach of dogs, for 
the storing of this fish when it has become “ ukala ” and 
for other provisions. These are everywhere known as 
“caches.” 

The Innuit’s summer home is very different from his 
winter home. It is erected above ground, of small pole 
frames, roofed with skins and open in front — somewhat 
like an Indian tepee. There is no opening in the roof, 
all cooking being done in the open air in summer. 

These natives were once thrifty hunters and trappers 
of wild animals, from the reindeer down to the beaver 
and marten, but the cannery life has so debauched them 
that they have no strength left for this energetic work. 

Formerly every Innuit settlement contained a “ kashga,” 
or town hall, which was built after the fashion of all 
winter houses, only larger. There the men gathered to 
talk and manage the affairs of their small world. It was 
a kind of “ corner grocery ” or “ back-room ” of a village 
drug store. The men usually slept there, and in the 


422 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

mornings their wives arose, cooked their breakfast, and 
carried it to them in the kashga, turning their backs 
while their husbands ate — it being considered exceed¬ 
ingly bad form for a woman to look at a man when he is 
eating in public, although they think nothing of bathing 
together. The habits of the people are nauseatingly 
filthy, and the interiors of their dwellings must be seen 
to be appreciated. 

Near the canneries the natives obtain work during the 
summer, but soon squander their wages in debauches 
and are left, when winter, arrives, in a starving condition. 

The season is very short in Bristol Bay, but the “ run ” 
of salmon is enormous. When this district is operating 
thirteen canneries, it packs each day two hundred and 
fifty thousand fish. In Nushagak Bay the fish frequently 
run so heavily that they catch in the propellers of launches 
and stop the engines. 

Bristol Bay has always been a dangerous locality to 
navigate. It is only by the greatest vigilance and the 
most careful use of the lead, upon approaching the shore, 
that disaster can be averted. 

Nearly all the canneries in this region are operated by 
the Alaska Packers Association, which also operates the 
greater number of canneries in Alaska. 

In 1907 the value of food fishes taken from Alaskan 
waters was nearly ten millions of dollars ; in the forty 
years since the purchase of that country, one hundred 
millions, although up to 1885 the pack was insignificant. 
At the present time it exceeds by more than half a million 
cases the entire pack of British Columbia, Puget Sound, 
Columbia River, and the Oregon and Washington coasts. 

In 1907 forty-four canneries packed salmon in Alaska, 
and those on Bristol Bay were of the most importance. 

The Nushagak River rivals the Karluk as a salmon 
stream, but not in picturesque beauty. The Nushagak 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


423 


and Wood rivers were both closed during the past season 
by order of the President, to protect the salmon industry 
of the future. 

Cod is abundant in Behring Sea, Bristol Bay, and south 
of the Aleutian, Shumagin, and Kadiak islands, covering 
an area of thirty thousand miles. Halibut is plentiful in 
all the waters of southeastern Alaska. This stupid-look¬ 
ing fish is wiser than it appears, and declines to swim into 
the parlor of a net. It is still caught by hook and line, is 
packed in ice, and sent, by regular steamer, to Seattle— 
whence it goes in refrigerator cars to the markets of the 
east. 

Herring, black cod, candle-fish, smelt, tom-cod, white- 
fish, black bass, flounders, clams, crabs, mussels, shrimp, 
and five species of trout—steelhead, Dolly Varden, cut¬ 
throat, rainbow, and lake — are all found in abundance in 
Alaska. 

Cook, entering Bristol Bay in 1778, named it for the 
Earl of Bristol, with difficulty avoiding its shoals. He 
saw the shoaled entrance to a river which he called Bristol 
River, but which must have been the Nushagak. He saw 
many salmon leaping, and found them in the maws of cod. 

The following day, seeing a high promontory, he sent 
Lieutenant Williamson ashore. Possession of the country 
in his Majesty’s name was taken, and a bottle was left 
containing the names of Cook’s ships and the date of dis¬ 
covery. To the promontory was given the name which it 
retains of Cape Newenham. 

Proceeding up the coast Cook met natives who were of 
a friendly disposition, but who seemed unfamiliar with 
the sight of white men and vessels ; they were dressed 
somewhat like Aleutians, wearing, also, skin hoods and 
wooden bonnets. 

The ships were caught in the shoals of Kuskokwim Bay, 
but Cook does not appear to have discovered this great 


424 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


river, which is the second in size of Alaskan rivers and 
whose length is nine hundred miles. In the bay the tides 
have a fifty-foot rise and fall, entering in a tremendous 
bore. This vicinity formerly furnished exceedingly fine 
black bear skins. 

Cook’s surgeon died of consumption and was buried on 
an island which was named Anderson, in his memory. 
Upon an island about four leagues in circuit a rude sledge 
was found, and the name of Sledge Island was bestowed 
upon it. He entered Norton Sound, but only “suspected ” 
the existence of a mighty river, completely missing the 
Yukon. 

He named the extreme western point of North America, 
which plunges out into Behring Sea, almost meeting the 
East Cape of Siberia, Cape Prince of Wales. In the 
centre of the strait .are the two Diomede Islands, between 
which the boundary line runs, one belonging to Russia, 
the other to the United States. 

Cook sailed up into the Frozen Ocean and named Icy 
Cape, narrowly missing disaster in the ice pack. There 
he saw many herds of sea-horses, or walrus, lying upon 
the ice in companies numbering many hundreds. They 
huddled over one another like swine, roaring and braying; 
so that in the night or in a fog they gave warning of 
the nearness of ice. Some members of the herd kept 
watch ; they aroused those nearest to them and warned 
them of the approach of enemies. Those, in turn, warned 
others, and so the word was passed along in a kind of ripple 
until the entire herd was awake. When fired upon, they 
tumbled one over another into the sea, in the utmost confu¬ 
sion. The female defends her young to the very last, and 
at the sacrifice of her own life, if necessary, fighting fero¬ 
ciously. 

The walrus does not in the least resemble a horse, and it 
is difficult to understand whence the name arose. It is 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


425 


somewhat like a seal, only much larger. Those found by 
Cook in the Arctic were from nine to twelve feet in length 
and weighed about a thousand pounds. Their tusks have 
always been valuable, and have greatly increased in value 
of recent years, as the walrus diminish in number. 

Cook named Cape Denbigh and Cape Darby on either 
side of Norton Bay; and Besborough Island south of Cape 
Denbigh. 

Going ashore, he encountered a family of natives which 
he and Captain King describe in such wise that no one, 
having read the description, can ever enter Norton Sound 
without recalling it. The family consisted of a man, his 
wife, and a child ; and a fourth person who bore the human 
shape, and that was all, for he was the most horribly, the 
most pitiably, deformed cripple ever seen, heard of, or im¬ 
agined. The husband was blind ; and all were extremely 
unpleasant in appearance. The underlips were bored. 

These natives would have evidently sold their souls 
for iron. For four knives made out of old iron hoop, 
they traded four hundred pounds of fish — and Cook 
must have lost his conscience overboard with his anchor in 
Kuskokwim Bay. He recovered the anchor ! 

He gave the girl-child a few beads, “ whereupon the 
mother burst into tears, then the father, then the cripple, 
and, at last, the girl herself.” 

Many different passages, or sentences, have been called 
“the most pathetic ever written”; but, myself, I confess 
that I have never been so powerfully or so lastingly moved 
by any sentence as I was when I first read that one of 
Cook’s. Almost equalling it, however, in pathos is the 
simple account of Captain King’s of his meeting with the 
same family. He was on shore with a party obtaining 
wood when these people approached in a canoe. He beck¬ 
oned to them to land, and the husband and wife came 
ashore. He gave the woman a knife, saying that he would 


426 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


give her a larger one for some fish. She made signs for 
him to follow them. 

“I had proceeded with them about a mile, when the 
man, in crossing a stony beach, fell down and cut his foot 
very much. This made me stop, upon which the woman 
pointed to the man’s eyes, which, I observed, were covered 
with a thick, white film. He afterward kept close to his 
wife, who apprised him of the obstacles in his way. The 
woman had a little child on her back, covered with a 
hood, and which I took for a bundle until I heard it 
cry. At about two miles distant we came upon their open 
skin-boat, which was turned on its side, the convex 
part toward the wind, and served for their house. I was 
now made to perform a singular operation upon the man’s 
eyes. First, I was directed to hold my breath ; afterward, 
to breathe on the diseased eyes ; and next, to spit on them. 
The woman then took both my hands and, pressing them 
to his stomach, held them there while she related some 
calamitous history of her family, pointing sometimes to 
her husband, sometimes to a frightful cripple belonging 
to the family, and sometimes to her child.” 

Berries, birch, willow, alders, broom, and spruce were 
found. Beer was brewed of the spruce. 

Cook now sailed past that divinely beautiful shore upon 
which St. Michael’s is situated, and named Stuart Island 
and Cape Stephens, but did not hear the Yukon calling 
him. He did find shoal water, very much discolored and 
muddy, and “inferred that a considerable river runs into 
the sea.” If he had only guessed how considerable ! 
Passing south, he named Clerk’s, Gore’s, and Pinnacle 
Islands, and returned to Unalaska. 


CHAPTER XLI 


A FAMOUS engineering feat was the building of the 
White Pass and Yukon Railway from Skaguay to White 
Horse. Work was commenced on this road in May, 1898, 
and finished in January, 1900. 

Its completion opened the interior of Alaska and the 
Klondike to the world, and brought enduring fame to 
Mr. M. J. Heney, the builder, and Mr. E. C. Hawkins, 
the engineer. 

In 1897 Mr. Heney went North to look for a pass 
through the Coast Range. Up to that time travel to the 
Klondike had been about equally divided between the 
Dyea, Skaguay, and Jack Dalton trails ; the route by way 
of the Stikine and Hootalinqua rivers ; and the one to 
St. Michael’s by ocean steamers and thence up the Yu¬ 
kon by small and, at that time, inferior steamers. 

Mr. Heney and his engineers at once grasped the pos¬ 
sibilities of the “Skaguay Trail.” This pass was first 
explored and surveyed by Captain Moore, of Mr. Ogil- 
vie’s survey of June, 1887, who named it White Pass, 
for Honorable Thomas White, Canadian Minister of the 
Interior. It could not have been more appropriately 
named, even though named for a man, as there is never 
a day in the warmest weather that snow-peaks are not 
in view to the traveller over this pass ; while from Sep¬ 
tember to June the trains wind through sparkling and 
unbroken whiteness. 

Mr. Heney, coming out to finance the road, faced serious 
427 


428 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


difficulties and discouragements in America. Owing to 
the enormous cost of this short piece of road, as planned, 
as well as the daring nature of its conception, the bold¬ 
est financiers of this country, upon investigation, declined 
to entertain the proposition. 

Mr. Heney was a young man who, up to that time, 
although possessed of great ability, had made no marked 
success — his opportunity not having as yet presented 
itself. 

Recovering from his first disappointment, he undaunt¬ 
edly voyaged to England, where some of the most conserva¬ 
tive capitalists, moved and convinced by his enthusiasm 
and his clear descriptions of the northern country and its 
future, freely financed the railroad whose successful build¬ 
ing was to become one of the most brilliant achievements 
of the century. 

They were entirely unacquainted with Mr. Heney, and 
after this proof of confidence in him and his project, the 
word “ fail ” dropped out of the English language, so far 
as the intrepid young builder was concerned. 

“ After that,” he said, “ I could not fail.” 

He returned and work was at once begun. A man big 
of body, mind, and heart, he was specially fitted for the 
perilous and daring work. Calm, low-voiced, compelling 
in repressed power and unswerving courage and will, he 
was a harder worker than any of his men. 

Associated with him was a man equally large and equally 
gifted. Mr. Hawkins is one of the most famous engineers 
of this country, if not of any country. 

The difficult miles that these two men tramped; the 
long, long hours of each day that they worked; the hard¬ 
ships that they endured, unflinching; the appalling ob¬ 
stacles that they overcame — are a part of Alaskan 
history. 

The first twenty miles of this road from Skaguay cost 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


429 


two millions of dollars ; the average cost to the summit 
was a hundred thousand dollars a mile, and now and then 
a single mile cost a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 

The road is built on mountainsides so precipitous that 
men were suspended from the heights above by ropes, to 
prevent disaster while cutting grades. At one point a 
cliff a hundred and twenty feet high, eighty feet deep, 
and twenty feet in width was blasted entirely away for 
the road-bed. 

Thirty-five hundred men in all were employed in con¬ 
structing the road, but thirty of whom died, of accident 
and disease, during the construction. Taking into con¬ 
sideration the perilous nature of the work, the rigors of 
the winter climate, and the fact that work did not cease 
during the worst weather, this is a remarkably small pro¬ 
portion. 

A force of finer men never built a railroad. Many were 
prospectors, eager to work their way into the land of gold; 
others were graduates of eastern colleges; all were self- 
respecting, energetic men. 

Skaguay is a thousand miles from Seattle; and from the 
latter city and Vancouver, men, supplies, and all materials 
were shipped. This was not one of the least of the hin¬ 
drances to a rapid completion of the road. Rich strikes 
were common occurrences at that time. In one day, after 
the report of a new discovery in the Atlin country had 
reached headquarters, fifteen hundred men drew their 
pay and stampeded for the new gold fields. 

But all obstacles to the building of the road were sur¬ 
mounted. Within eighteen months from the date of be¬ 
ginning work it was completed to White Horse, a distance 
of one hundred and eleven miles, and trains were running 
regularly. 

A legend tells us that an old Indian chief saw the canoe 


430 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


of his son upset in the waves lashed by the terrific winds 
that blow down between the mountains. The lad was 
drowned before the helpless father’s eyes, and in his sor¬ 
row the old chief named the place Shkag-ua, or “ Home of 
the North Wind.” It has been abbreviated to Skaguay; 
and has been even further disfigured by a w, in place of 
the u. 

Between salt water and the foot of White Pass Trail, 
two miles up the canyon, in the winter of 1897-1898, ten 
thousand men were camped. Some were trying to get 
their outfits packed over the trail; others were impatiently 
waiting for the completion of the wagon road which George 
A. Brackett was building. This road was completed 
almost to the summit when the railroad overtook it and 
bought its right of way. It is not ten years old; yet it 
is always called “the old Brackett road.” 

At half-past nine of a July morning our train left 
Skaguay for White Horse. We traversed the entire 
length of the town before entering the canyon. There 
are low, brown flats at the mouth of the river, which spreads 
over them in shallow streams fringed with alders and 
cottonwoods. 

Above, on both sides, rose the gray, stony cliffs. Here 
and there were wooded slopes ; others were rosy with fire- 
weed that moved softly, like clouds. 

We soon passed the ruined bridge of the Brackett road, 
the water brawling noisily, gray-white, over the stones. 

Our train was a long one drawn by four engines. There 
were a baggage-car, two passenger-cars, and twenty flat 
and freight cars loaded with boilers, machinery, cattle, 
chickens, merchandise, and food-stuffs of all kinds. 

After crossing Skaguay River the train turns back, 
climbing rapidly, and Skaguay and Lynn Canal are seen 
shiningin the distance. ... We turn again. The river 
foams between mountains of stone, hundreds of feet below 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


481 


— so far below that the trees growing sparsely along its 
banks seem as the tiniest shrubs. 

The Brackett road winds along the bed of the river, 
while the old White Pass, or Heartbreak, Trail climbs and 
falls along the stone and crumbling shale of the opposite 
mountain — in many places rising to an altitude of several 
hundred feet, in others sinking to a level with the river. 

The Brackett road ends at White Pass City, where, ten 
years ago, was the largest tent-city in the world; and where 
now are only the crumbling ruins of a couple of log cabins, 
silence, and loneliness. 

At White Pass City that was, the old Trail of Heartbreak 
leads up the canyon of the north fork of the Skaguay, di¬ 
rectly away from the railroad. The latter makes a loop of 
many miles and returns to the canyon hundreds of feet 
above its bed. The scenery is of constantly increasing 
grandeur. Cascades, snow-peaks, glaciers, and overhang¬ 
ing cliffs of stone make the way one of austere beauty. In 
two hours and a half we climb leisurely, with frequent 
stops, from the level of the sea to the summit of the pass; 
and although skirting peaks from five to eight thousand 
feet in height, we pass through only one short tunnel. 

It is a thrilling experience. The rocking train clings to 
the leaning wall of solid stone. A gulf of purple ether 
sinks sheer on the other side — so sheer, so deep, that one 
dare not look too long or too intently into its depth. 
Hundreds of feet below, the river roars through its narrow 
banks, and in many places the train overhangs it. In 
others, solid rock cliffs jut out boldly over the train. 

After passing through the tunnel, the train creeps 
across the steel cantilever bridge which seems to have been 
flung, as a spider flings his glistening threads, from cliff to 
cliff, two hundred and fifteen feet above the river, foaming 
white over the immense boulders that here barricade its 
headlong race to the sea. 


432 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Beautiful and impressive though this trip is in the green 
time and the bloom time of the year, it remains for the 
winter to make it sublime. 

The mountains are covered deeply with snow, which 
drifts to a tremendous depth in canyons and cuts. 
Through these drifts the powerful rotary snow-plough 
cleaves a white and glistening tunnel, along which the 
train slowly makes its way. The fascinating element of 
momentary peril — of snow-slides burying the train — 
enters into the winter trip. 

Near Clifton one looks down upon an immense block of 
stone, the size of a house but perfectly flat, beneath which 
three men were buried by a blast during the building of 
the road. The stone is covered with grass and flowers 
and is marked with a white cross. 

At the summit, twenty miles from Skaguay, is a red 
station named White Pass. A monument marks the 
boundary between the United States and Yukon Terri¬ 
tory. The American flag floats on one side, the Canadian 
on the other. A cone of rocks on the crest of the hill 
leading away from the sea marks the direction the boun¬ 
dary takes. 

The White Pass Railway has an average grade of three 
per cent, and it ascends with gradual, splendid sweeps 
around mountainsides and projecting cliffs. 

The old trail is frequently called “Dead Horse Trail.” 
Thousands of horses and mules were employed by the 
stampeders. The poor beasts were overloaded, over¬ 
worked, and, in many instances, treated with unspeakable 
cruelty. It was one of the shames of the century, and 
no humane person can ever remember it without horror. 

At one time in 1897 more than five thousand dead 
horses were counted on the trail. Some had lost their 
footing and were dashed to death on the rocks below ; 
others had sunken under their cruel burdens in utter ex- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


433 


haustion ; others had been shot; and still others had 
been brutally abandoned and had slowly starved to death. 

“ What became of the horses,” I asked an old stampeder, 
“ when you reached Lake Bennett? Did you sell them ?” 

“ Lord, no, ma’am,” returned he, politely; “ there 
wa’n’t nothing left of ’em to sell. You see, they was 
dead.” 

“ But I mean the ones that did not die.” 

“ There wa’n’t any of that kind, ma’am.” 

“ Do you mean,” I asked, in dismay, “ that they all 
died ? — that none survived that awful experience ? ” 

“That’s about it, ma’am. When we got to Lake Ben¬ 
nett there wa’n’t any more use for horses. Nobody was 
goin’ the other way — and if they had been, the horses 
that reached Lake Bennett wa’n’t fit to stand alone, let 
alone pack. The ones that wa’n’t shot, died of starvation. 
Yes, ma’am, it made a man’s soul sick.” 

Boundary lines are interesting in all parts of the 
world; but the one at the summit of the White Pass 
is of unusual historic interest. Side by side float the 
flags of America and Canada. They are about twenty 
yards from the little station, and every passenger left 
the train and walked to them, solely to experience a 
big patriotic American, or Canadian, thrill ; to strut, 
glow, and walk back to the train again. Myself, I gave 
thanks to God, silently and alone, that those two flags 
were floating side by side there on that mountain, beside 
the little sapphire lake, instead of at the head of Chil- 
koot Inlet. 

There are Canadian and United States inspectors of 
customs at the summit; also a railway agent. Their 
families live there with them, and there is no one else 
and nothing else, save the little sapphire lake lying in 
the bare hills. 


434 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Its blue waves lipped the porch whereon sat the young, 
sweet-faced wife of the Canadian inspector, with her baby 
in its carriage at her side. 

This bit of liquid sapphire, scarcely larger than an arti¬ 
ficial pond in a park, is really one of the chief sources of 
the Yukon — which, had these clear waters turned tow¬ 
ard Lynn Canal, instead of away from it, might have 
never been. It seems so marvellous. The merest breath, 
in the beginning, might have toppled their liquid bulk 
over into the canyon through which we had so slowly and 
so enchantingly mounted, and in an hour or two they 
might have forced their foaming, furious way to the ocean. 
But some power turned the blue waters to the north and 
set them singing down through the beautiful chain of 
lakes — Lindeman, Bennett, Tagish, Marsh, Labarge — 
winding, widening, past ramparts and mountains, through 
canyons and plains, to Behring Sea, twenty-three hun¬ 
dred miles from this lonely spot. 

This beginning of the Yukon is called the Lewes River. 
Far away, in the Pelly Mountains, the Pelly River rises 
and flows down to its confluence with the Lewes at old 
Fort Selkirk, and the Yukon is born of their union. 

The Lewes has many tributaries, the most important 
of which is the Hootalinqua — or, as the Indians named 
it, Teslin — having its source in Teslin Lake, near the 
source of the Stikine River. 

After leaving the summit the railway follows the shores 
of the river and the lakes, and the way is one of loveliness 
rather than grandeur. The saltish atmosphere is left behind, 
and the air tings with the sweetness of mountain and lake. 

We had eaten an early breakfast, and we did not reach 
an eating station until we arrived at the head of Lake 
Bennett at half after one o’clock; and then we were 
given fifteen minutes in which to eat our lunch and get 
back to the train. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


435 


I do not think I have ever been so hungry in my life — 
and fifteen minutes! The dining room was clean and 
attractive; two long, narrow tables, or counters, extended 
the entire length of the room. They were decorated with 
great bouquets of wild flowers ; the sweet air from the 
lake blew in through open windows and shook the white 
curtains out into the room. 

The tables were provided with good food, all ready to 
be eaten. There were ham sandwiches made of lean ham. 
It was not edged with fat and embittered with mustard ; it 
must have been baked, too, because no boiled ham could be so 
sweet. There were big brown lima beans, also baked, not 
boiled, and dill-pickles — no insipid pin-moneys, but good, 
sour, delicious dills ! There were salads, home-made bread, 
“ salt-rising ” bread and butter, cakes and cookies and 
fruit — and huckleberry pie. Blueberries, they are called 
in Alaska, but they are our own mountain huckleberries. 

No twelve-course luncheon, with a different wine for 
each course, could impress itself upon my memory as did 
that lunch-counter meal. We ate as children eat; with 
their pure, animal enjoyment and satisfaction. For fifteen 
minutes we had not a desire in the world save to gratify 
our appetites with plain, wholesome food. There was no 
crowding, no selfishness and rudeness, — as there had been 
in that wild scene on the excursion-boat, where the struggle 
had been for place rather than for food,— but a polite con¬ 
sideration for one another. And outside the sun shone, 
the blue waves sparkled and rippled along the shore, and 
their music came in through the open windows. 

- Here, in 1897, was a city of tents. Several thousand 
men and women camped here, waiting for the cpmpletion 
of boats and rafts to convey themselves and their outfits 
down the lakes and the river to the golden land of their 
dreams. 

Standing between cars, clinging to a rattling brake, I 


436 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


made the acquaintance of Cyanide Bill, and he told me 
about it. 

“ Tents ! ” said he. “ Did you say tents ? Hunh ] 
Why, lady, tents was as thick here in ’97 and ’98 as seeds 
on a strawberry. They was so thick it took a man an 
hour to find his own. Hunh ! You tripped up every 
other step on a tent-peg. I guess nobody knows anything 
about tents unless he was mushin’ around Lake Bennett in 
the summer of ’97. From five to ten thousand men and 
women was camped here off an’ on. Fresh ones by the 
hundred come strugglin’, sweatin’, dyin’, in over the 
trail every day, and every day hundreds got their rafts 
finished, bundled their things and theirselves on to ’em. 
and went tearin’ and yellin’ down the lake, gloatin’ over 
the poor tired-out wretches that just got in. Often as 
not they come sneakin’ back afoot without any raft and 
without any outfit and worked their way back to the 
states to get another. Them that went slow, went sure, 
and got in ahead of the rushers. 

“1 wisht you could of seen the tent, town!—young 
fellows right out of college flauntin’ around as if they knew 
somethin’; old men, stooped and gray-headed; gamblers, 
tin horns, cut-throats, and thieves ; honest women, workiiF 
their way in with their husbands or sons, their noses bent 
to the earth, with heavy packs on their backs, like men ; 
and gay, painted dance-hall girls, sailin’ past ’em on horse¬ 
back and dressed to kill and livin’ on the fat of the land. 
I bet more good women went to the bad on this here lay¬ 
out than you could shake a stick at. It seemed to get 
on to their nerves to struggle along, week after week, 
packin’ like animals, sufferin’ like dogs, et up by mosqui¬ 
toes and gnats, pushed and crowded out by men — and 
then to see them gay girls go singin’ by, livin’ on luxu¬ 
ries, men failin’ all over theirselves to wait on ’em, 
champagne to drink — it sure did get on to their nerves! 



Copyright by F. H. Nowell, Seattle 

Council City and Solomon River Railroad — A Characteristic Landscape of Seward Peninsula 


















ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


437 


“ You see, somehow, up here, in them days, things didn’t 
seem the way they do down below. Nature kind of gets 
in her work ahead of custom up here. Wrong don’t look 
so terrible different from right to a woman a thousand 
miles from civilization. When she sees women all around 
her walkin’ on flowers, and her own feet blistered and 
bleedin’ on stones and thorns, she’s pretty apt to ask her¬ 
self whether bein’ good and workin’ like a horse pays. 
And up here on the trail in ’97 the minute a woman begun 
to ask herself that question, it was all up with her. The 
end was in plain sight, like the nose on a man’s face. The 
dance hall on in Dawson answered the question practical. 

“ Of course, lots of ’em went in straight and stayed 
straight ; and they’re the ones that made Dawson and 
saved Dawson. You get a handful of good women located 
in a minin’-camp and you can build up a town, and you 
can’t do it before, mounted police or no mounted police.” 

I had heard these hard truths of the Trail of Heartbreak 
before ; but having been worded more vaguely, they had 
not impressed me as they did now, spoken with the plain, 
honest directness of the old trail days. 

“If you want straight facts about ’97,” the collector had 
said to me, “ I’ll introduce you to Cyanide Bill, out there. 
He was all through here time and again. He will tell you 
everything you want to know. But be careful what you 
ask him ; he’ll answer anything — and he doesn’t talk 
parlor.” 

“ The hardships such women went through,” continued 
Cyanide Bill, “ the insults and humiliations they faced and 
lived down, ought to of set ’em on a pe-dfes-tal when all was 
said and done and decency had the upper hand. The 
time come when the other’ns got their come-upin’s ; when 
they found out whether it paid to live straight. 

“ The world’ll never see such a rush for gold again,” 
went on Cyanide Bill, after a pause. “ I tell you it takes 


438 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


a lot to make any impress on me, I’ve been toughenin’ up 
in this country so many years ; but when I arrives and 
sees the orgy goin’ on along this trail, my heart up and 
stood still a spell. The strong ones was all a-trompin’ the 
weak ones down. The weak ones went down and out, 
and the strong ones never looked behind. Men just went 
crazy. Men that had always been kind-hearted went 
plumb locoed and ’u’d trample down their best friend, to 
get ahead of him. They got just like brutes and didn’t 
know their own selves. It’s no wonder the best women 
give up. Did you ever hear the story of Lady Belle ? ” 

I remembered Lady Belle, probably because of the name, 
but I had never heard the details of her tragic story, and 
I frankly confessed that I would like to hear them — 
“ parlor ” language or “ trail,” it mattered not. 

“Well,” — he half closed his eyes and stared down the 
blue lake, — “she come along this trail the first of July, 
the prettiest woman you ever laid eyes on. Her husband 
was with her. He seemed to be kind to her at first, but 
the horrors of the trail worked on him, and he went kind 
of locoed. He took to abusin’ her and blamin’ her for 
everything. She worked like a dog and he treated her 
about like one ; but she never lost her beauty nor her 
sweetness. She had the sweetest smile I ever saw on 
any human bein’s face; and she was the only one that 
thought about others. 

“ ‘ Don’t crowd ! ’ she used to cry, with that smile of 
her’n. 4 We’re all havin’ a hard time together.’ 

“Well, they lost their outfit in White Horse Rapids ; 
her husband cursed her and said it wouldn’t of happened 
if she hadn’t been hell-bent to came along ; he took to 
drinkin’ and up and left her there at the rapids. He 
went back to the states, sayin’ he didn’t ever want to see 
her again. 

“ She was left there without an ounce of grub or a cent 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 43S 

of money. Yakataga Pete had been workin’ along the 
trail with a big outfit, and had gone on in ahead; He’d 
fell in love with her before he knew she was married. 
He went on up into the cricks, and when he come down 
to Dawson six months later, she was in a dance hall. 
Dawson was wild about her. They called her Lady 
Belle because she was always such a lady. 

“Yakataga went straight to her and asked her to marry 
him. She burst out into the most terrible cryin’ you ever 
hear. 4 As if I could ever marry anybody ! ’ she cries 
out; and that’s all the answer he ever got. We found 
out she had a little blind sister down in the states. She 
had to send money to keep her in a blind school. She 
danced and acted cheerful; but her face was as white as 
chalk, and her big dark eyes looked like a fawn’s eyes 
when you’ve shot it and not quite killed it, so’s it can’t 
get away from you, nor die, nor anything ; but she was 
always just as sweet as ever. 

“Two months after that she — she — killed herself. 
Yakataga was up in the cricks. He come down and 
buried her.” 

It was told, the simple and tragic tale of Lady Belle, 
and presently Cyanide Bill went away and left me. 

The breeze grew cooler ; it crested the waves with 
silver. Pearly clouds floated slowly overhead and were 
reflected in the depths below. 

The mountains surrounding Lake Bennett are of an 
unusual color. It is a soft old-rose in the distance. The 
color is not caused by light and shade; nor by the sun; 
nor by flowers. It is the color of the mountains them¬ 
selves. They are said to be almost solid mountains of 
iron, which gives them their name of “ Iron-Crowned,” I 
believe ; but to me they will always be the Rose-colored 
Mountains. They soften and enrich the sparkling, al¬ 
most dazzling, blue atmosphere, and give the horizon a 


440 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


look of sunset even at midday. The color reminded me 
of the dull old-rose of Columbia Glacier. 

Lake Bennett dashes its foam-crested blue waves along 
the pebbly beaches and stone terraces for a distance of 
twenty-seven miles. At its widest it is not more than 
two miles, and it narrows in places to less than half a 
mile. It winds and curves like a river. 

The railway runs along the eastern shore of the lake, 
and mountains slope abruptly from the opposite shore 
to a height of five thousand feet. The scenery is never 
monotonous. It charms constantly, and the air keeps the 
traveller as fresh and sparkling in spirit as champagne. 

For many miles a solid road-bed, four or five feet 
above the water, is hewn out of the base of the moun¬ 
tains ; the terrace from the railway to the water is a 
solid blaze of bloom ; white sails, blown full, drift up 
and down the blue water avenue ; cloud-fragments move 
silently over the nearer rose-colored mountains ; while in 
the distance, in every direction that the eye may turn, the 
enchanted traveller is saluted by some lonely and beauti¬ 
ful peak of snow. It is an exquisitely lovely lake. 

We had passed Lake Lindeman — named by Lieutenant 
Schwatka for Dr. Lindeman of the Breman Geographical 
Society — before reaching Bennett. 

Lake Lindeman is a clear and lovely lake seven miles 
long, half a mile wide, and of a good depth for any navi¬ 
gation required here. A mountain stream pours tumul¬ 
tuously into it, adding to its picturesque beauty. 

Sea birds haunt these lakes, drift on to the Yukon, and 
follow the voyager until they meet their silvery fellows 
coming up from Behring Sea. 

Between Lakes Lindeman and Bennett the river con¬ 
necting link is only three quarters of a mile long, about 
thirty yards wide, and only two or three feet deep. It is 
filled with shoals, rapids, cascades, boulders, and bars ; 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


441 


and navigation is rendered so difficult and so dangerous 
that in the old “ raft ” days outfits were usually portaged 
to Lake Bennett. 

During the rush to the Klondike a saw-mill was estab¬ 
lished at the head of Lake Bennett, and lumber for boat 
building was sold for one hundred dollars a thousand 
feet. 

The air in these lake valleys on a warm day is indescrib¬ 
ably soft and balmy. It is scented with pine, balm, cot¬ 
tonwood, and flowers. The lower slopes are covered with 
fireweed, lark-spur, dandelions, monk’s-hood, purple as¬ 
ters, marguerites, wild roses, dwarf goldenrod, and many 
other varieties of wild flowers. The fireweed is of special 
beauty. Its blooms are larger and of a richer red than 
along the coast. Blooms covering acres of hillside seem 
to float like a rosy mist suspended in the atmosphere. 
The grasses are also very beautiful, some having the rich, 
changeable tints of a humming-bird. 

The short stream a couple of hundred yards in width 
connecting Lake Bennett with the next lake — a very 
small, but pretty one which Seliwatka named Nares — 
was called by the natives “the place where the caribou 
cross,” and now bears the name of Caribou Crossing. At 
certain seasons the caribou were supposed to cross this 
part of the river in vast herds on their way to different 
feeding-grounds, the current being very shallow at this 
point. 

There is a small settlement here now, and boats were 
waiting to carry passengers to the Atlin mining district. 
The caribou have now found less populous territories in 
which to range. In the winter of 1907-1908 they ranged 
in droves of many thousands — some reports said hun¬ 
dreds of thousands — through the hills and valleys of the 
Stewart, Klondike, and Sixty-Mile rivers, in the Upper 
Yukon country. 


442 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Miners killed them by the hundreds, dressed them, and 
stored them in the shafts and tunnels of their mines, 
down in the eternally frozen caverns of the earth — thus 
supplying themselves with the most delicious meat for a 
year. The trek of caribou from the Tanana River valley 
to the head of White River consumed more than ninety 
days in passing the head of the Forty-Mile valley — at 
least a thousand a day passing during that period. They 
covered from one to five miles in width, and trod the 
snow down as solidly as it is trodden in a city street. A 
great wolf-pack clung to the flank of the herd. The 
wolves easily cut out the weak or tired-out caribou and 
devoured them. 

Caribou Crossing is a lonely and desolate cluster of 
tents and cabins huddling in the sand on the water’s edge. 
Considerable business is transacted here, and many pas¬ 
sengers transfer here in summer to Atlin. In winter they 
leave the train at Log-Cabin, which we passed during the 
forenoon, and make the journey overland in sleighs. 

The voyage from Caribou Crossing to Atlin is by way 
of a chain of blue lakes, pearled by snow mountains. It 
is a popular round-trip tourist trip, which may be taken 
with but little extra expense from Skaguay. 

Tagish Lake, as it was named by Dr. Dawson, — the 
distinguished British explorer and chief director of the 
natural history and geological survey of the Dominion of 
Canada, — was also known as Bove Lake. Ten miles from 
its head it is joined by Taku Arm — Tahk-o Lake, it was 
called by Schwatka. 

The shores of Tagish Lake are terraced beautifully to 
the water, the terraces rising evenly one above another. 
They were probably formed by the regular movement of 
ice in other ages, when the waters in these valleys were 
deeper and wider. There are some striking points of 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


443 


limestone in this vicinity, their pearl-white shoulders 
gleaming brilliantly in the sunshine, with sparkling blue 
waves dashing against them. 

Marsh Lake, and another with a name so distasteful that 
I will not write it, are further links in the brilliant sapphire 
water chain by which the courageous voyagers of the 
Heartbreak days used to drift hopefully, yet fearfully, 
down to the Klondike. The bed of a lake which was un¬ 
intentionally drained completely dry by the builders of 
the railroad is passed just before reaching Grand Canyon. 

The train pauses at the canyon and again at White 
Horse Rapids, to give passengers a glimpse of these famed 
and dreaded places of navigation of a decade ago. 

At six o’clock in the evening of the day we left Skaguay 
we reached White Horse. 


CHAPTER XLII 


This is a new, clean, wooden town, the first of any im¬ 
portance in Yukon Territory. It has about fifteen hun¬ 
dred inhabitants, is the terminus of the railroad, and is 
growing rapidly. The town is on the banks of Lewes 
River, or, as they call it here, the Yukon. 

There is an air of tidiness, order, and thrift about this 
town which is never found in a frontier town in “the 
states.” There are no old newspapers huddled into gutters, 
nor blowing up and down the street. Men do not stand 
on corners with their hands in their pockets, or whit¬ 
tling out toothpicks, and waiting for a railroad to be built 
or a mine to be discovered. They walk the streets with 
the manner of men who have work to do and who feel 
that life is worth while, even on the outposts of civiliza¬ 
tion. 

All passengers, freight, and supplies for the interior 
now pass through White Horse. The river bank is lined 
with vast warehouses which, by the time the river opens 
in June, are piled to the roofs with freight. The ship¬ 
ments of heavy machinery are large. From the river one 
can see little besides these warehouses, the shipyards to 
the south, and the hills. 

Passing through the depot one is confronted by 
the largest hotel, the White Pass, directly across the 
street. To this we walked; and from an upstairs 
window had a good view of the town. The streets are 
wide and level; the whole town site is as level as a 


444 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


445 


parade-ground. The buildings are frame and log ; 
merchandise is fair in quality and style, and in price, 
high. Mounted police strut stiffly and importantly up 
and down the streets to and from their picturesque log 
barracks. One unconsciously holds one’s chin level and 
one’s shoulders high the instant one enters a Yukon 
town. It is in the air. 

Excellent grounds are provided for all outdoor sports ; 
and in the evening every man one meets has a tennis 
racket or a golf stick in his hand, and on his face that 
look of enthusiastic anticipation which is seen only on a 
British sportsman’s face. No American, however enthu¬ 
siastic or “ keen ” he may be on outdoor sports, ever 
quite gets that look. 

There was no key to our door. Furthermore, the door 
would not even close securely, but remained a few hair 
breadths ajar. There was no bell ; but on our way down 
to dinner, having left some valuables in our room, we re¬ 
ported the matter to a porter whom we met in the hall, 
and asked him to lock our door. 

“It doesn’t lock,” he replied politely. “It doesn’t 
even latch, and the key is lost.” 

Observing our amazed faces, he added, smiling : — 

“You don’t need it, ladies. You will be as safe as 
you would be at home. We never lock doors in White 
Horse.” 

This was my first Yukon shock, but not my last. My 
faith in mounted police has always been strong, but it 
went down before that unlocked door. 

“ Possibly the people of White Horse never take what 
does not belong to them,” I said; “but a hundred 
strangers came in on that train. Might not one be 
afflicted with kleptomania ? ” 

“He wouldn’t steal here,” said the boy, confidently. 
“Nobody ever does.” 


446 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


There seemed to be nothing more to say. We left our 
door ajar and, with lingering backward glances, went 
down to the dining room. 

Never shall I forget that dinner. It was as bad as our 
lunch had been good. The room was hot; the table-cloth 
was far from being immaculate ; the waitress was untidy 
and ill-bred ; and there was nothing that we could eat. 

Nor were we fastidious. We neither expected, nor de¬ 
sired, luxuries ; we asked only well-cooked, clean, whole¬ 
some food ; but if this is to be obtained in White Horse, 
we found it not — although we did not cease trying while 
we were there. 

We went out and walked the clean streets and looked 
into restaurants, and tried to see something good to eat, 
or at least a clean table-cloth ; but in the end we went 
hungry to bed. We had wine and graham wafers in our 
bags, and they consoled ; but we craved something sub¬ 
stantial, notwithstanding our hearty lunch. It was the 
air — the light, fresh, sparkling air of mountain, river, 
and lake — that gave us our appetites. 

When we had walked until our feet could no longer 
support us, we returned to the hotel. J0n the way, we 
saw a sign announcing ice-cream soda. We went in and 
asked for some, but the ice-cream was “all out.” 

“But we have plain soda,” said the man, looking so 
wistful that we at once decided to have some, although 
we both detested it. 

He fizzed it elaborately into two very small glasses and 
led us back into a little dark room, where were chairs and 
tables, and he gave us spoons with which to eat our plain 
soda. “ Let me pay,” said my friend, airily; and she put 
ten cents on the table. 

The man looked at it and grinned. He did not smile ; 
he grinned. Then he went away and left it lying there. 

We tried to drink the soda-water ; then we tried to 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


447 


coax it through straws ; finally we tried to eat it with 
spoons — as others about us were doing ; but we could 
not. It looked like soap-bubbles and it tasted like soap- 
bubbles. 

“ He didn’t see his ten cents,” said my friend, gather¬ 
ing it up. “ I suppose one pays at the counter out there. 
I would cheerfully pay him an extra ten if I had not 
gotten the taste of the abominable stuff in my mouth.” 

She laid the ten cents on the counter grudgingly. 

The man looked at it and grinned again. 

“Them things don’t go here,” said he. “It’s fifty 
cents.” 

There was a silence. I found my handkerchief and 
laughed into it, wishing I had taken a second glass. 

“ Oh, I see,” said she, slowly and sweetly, as a half- 
dollar slid lingering down her fingers to the counter. 
“For the spoons. They were worth it.” 

It was two o’clock before we could leave our windows 
that night. It was not dark, not even dusk. A kind of 
blue-white light lay over the town and valley, deepening 
toward the hills. In the air was that delicious quality 
which charms the senses like perfumes. Only to breathe 
it in was a drowsy, languorous joy. At White Horse one 
opens the magic, invisible gate and passes into the en¬ 
chanted land of Forgetfulness—and the gate swings shut 
behind one. 

Home and friends seem far away. If every soul that 
one loves were at death’s door, one could not get home in 
time to say farewell — so why not banish care and enjoy 
each hour as it comes ? 

This is the same reckless spirit which, greatly inten¬ 
sified, possessed desperate men when they went to the 
Klondike ten years ago. There was no telegraph, then, 
and mails were carried in only once or twice a year. 
Letters were lost. Men did not hear from their wives, 


448 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


and, discouraged and disheartened, decided that the 
women had died or had forgotten; so they went the way 
of the country, and it often came to pass that Heartbreak 
Trail led to the Land of Heartbreak. 

In the morning we learned that the boat for Dawson 
was not yet “ in,” and, even if it should arrive during the 
day, — which seemed to be as uncertain as the opening of 
the river in spring, — would not leave until some time 
during the night; so at nine o’clock we took the Skaguay 
train for the Grand Canyon. 

One “ oldest ” resident of White Horse told us that it 
was only a mile to the canyon; another oldest one, that 
it was four miles; still another, that it was five; all 
agreed that we should take the train out and walk back. 

“ There’s a tram,” they told us, “ an old, abandoned 
tram, and you can’t get lost. You’ve only to follow the 
tram. Why, a goose couldn’t get lost. Norman McCau¬ 
ley built the tram, and outfits were portaged around the 
canyon and the rapids two seasons ; then the railroad 
come in and the tram went out of business. ” 

We took our bundles of mosquito netting and boarded 
the train. In summer the travel is all “ in,” and we were 
the only passengers. When the White Pass Railway Com¬ 
pany was organized, stock was worth ten dollars a share; 
now it is worth six hundred and fifty dollars, and it is not 
for sale. Freight rates are five cents a pound, one hun¬ 
dred dollars a ton, or fifty in car-load lots, from Skaguay to 
White Horse. Passenger rates are supposed to be twenty 
cents a mile. We paid seventy-five cents to return to the 
canyon which we passed the previous day. This rate 
should make the distance four miles, and we barely had 
time to arrange our mosquito veils, according to the in¬ 
structions of the conductor, when the train stopped. 

We were told that we might not see a mosquito; and 
again, that we might not be able to see anything else. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 449 

We were put off and left standing ankle-deep in sand, on 
the brink of a precipice, four miles from any human being 
— in the wilds of Alaska. At that moment the trainmen 
looked like old and dear friends. 

“ The path down is right in front of you,” the collector 
called, as the train started. “Don’t be afraid of the 
bears! They will not harm you at this time of the 
year.” 

Bears! 

We had considered heat, mosquitoes, losing our way, 
hunger, exhaustion, — everything, it appeared, except 
bears. We looked at one another. 

“I had not thought of bears.” 

“ Nor had I.” 

We looked down at the bushes growing along the 
canyon; little lieat-worms glimmered in the still atmos¬ 
phere. 

“ Perhaps it is an Alaskan joke,” I suggested feebly. 

We stood for some time trying to decide whether we 
should make the descent or return to White Horse, when 
suddenly the matter was decided for us. I was standing 
on the brink of the sandy precipice, down which a path 
went, almost perpendicularly, without bend or pause, to 
the bank of the river several hundred yards below. 

The sandy soil upon which I stood suddenly caved and 
went down into the path. I went with it. I landed 
several yards below the brink, gave one cry, and then — 
by no will of my own — was off for the canyon. 

The caving of the brink had started a sand and gravel 
slide ; and I, knee-deep in it, was going down with it — 
slowly, but oh, most surely. There was no pausing, no 
looking back. I could hear my companion calling to me 
to “stop”; to “wait”; to “be careful” — and all her 
entreaties were the bitterest irony by the time they floated 
down to me. So long as the slide did not stop, it was 


450 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


useless to tell me to do so ; for I was embedded in it half¬ 
way to my waist. We kept going, slowly and hesitat¬ 
ingly ; but never slowly enough for me to get out. 

It was eighty in the shade, and the sand was hot. I 
was wearing a white waist, a dark blue cheviot skirt, and 
patent-leather shoes; and my appearance, when I finally 
reached level ground and cool alder trees, may be im¬ 
agined. Furthermore, our trunks had been bonded to 
Dawson, and I had no extra skirts or shoes with me. 

My companion, profiting by my misfortune, had armed 
herself with an alpenstock and was “ tacking ” down the 
slope. It was half an hour before she arrived. 

I have never forgiven her for the way she laughed. 

We soon forgot the bears in the beauty of the scene 
before us. We even forgot the comedy of my unwilling 
descent. 

The Lewes River gradually narrows from a width of 
three or four hundred yards to one of about fifty yards at 
the mouth of the Grand Canyon, which it enters in a great 
bore. 

The walls of the canyon are perpendicular columns and 
palisades of basalt. They rise without bend to a height 
of from one to two hundred feet, and then, set thickly 
with dark and gloomy spruce trees, slope gradually into 
mountains of considerable height. The canyon is five- 
eighths of a mile long, and in that interval the water drops 
thirty feet. Halfway through, it widens abruptly into a 
round water chamber, or basin, where the waters boil and 
seethe in dangerous whirlpools and eddies. Then it again 
narrows, and the waters rush wildly and tumultuously 
through walls of dark stone, veined with gray and lav¬ 
ender. The current runs fifteen miles an hour, and rafts 
“ shooting ” the rapids are hurled violently from side to 
side, pushed on end, spun round in whirlpools, buried for 
seconds in boiling foam, and at last are shot through 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


451 


the final narrow avenue like spears from a catapult — only 
to plunge madly on to the more dangerous White Horse 
Rapids. 

The waves dash to a height of four or five feet and 
break into vast sheets of spray and foam. Their roar, flung 
back by the stone walls, may be heard for a long dis¬ 
tance ; and that of the rapids drifts over the streets of 
White Horse like distant, continuous thunder, when all 
else is still. 

We found a difficult way by which, with the assistance 
of alpenstocks and overhanging tree branches, we could 
slide down to the very water, just above Whirlpool Basin. 
We stood there long, thinking of the tragedies that had 
been enacted in that short and lonely stretch ; of the lost 
outfits, the worn and wounded bodies, the spirits sore; of 
the hearts that had gone through, beating high and strong 
with hope, and that had returned broken. It is almost 
as poignantly interesting as the old trail; and not for two 
generations, at least, will the perils of those days be 
forgotten. 

It was about noon that, remembering our long walk, we 
turned reluctantly and set out for White Horse. 

Somewhere back of the basin we lost our way. We 
could not find the “ tram ” ; searching for it, we got into 
a swamp and could not make our way back to the river ; 
and suddenly the mosquitoes were upon us./ 

The underbrush was so thick that our netting was torn 
into shreds and left in festoons and tatters upon every 
bush; yet I still bear in my memory the vision of my 
friend floating like a tall, blond bride — for my dark¬ 
haired Scotch friend was not with me on the Yukon voyage 
— through the shadows of that swamp before her bridal 
veil went to pieces. 

Her bridal glory was grief. In a few moments we were 
both as black as negroes with mosquitoes ; for, desperately 


452 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


though we fought, we could not drive them away. The 
air in the swamp was heavy and still; our progress was 
unspeakably difficult — through mire and tall, lush grasses 
which, in any other country on earth, would have been 
alive with snakes and crawling things. 

The pests bit and stung our faces, necks, shoulders, and 
arms ; they even swarmed about our ankles ; while, for 
our hands— they were soon swollen to twice their original 
size. 

We wept ; we prayed ; we said evil things in the hear¬ 
ing of heaven ; we asked God to forgive us our sins, or, 
at the very least, to punish us for them in some other 
way ; but I, at least, in the heaviest of my afflictions, did 
not forget to thank Him because there are no snakes in 
Alaska or the Yukon. It seemed to me, even, in the 
fervor of my gratitude, that it had all been planned aeons 
ago for our special benefit in this extreme hour. 

But I shall spare the reader a further description of 
our sufferings. 

I had always considered the Alaskan mosquito a joke. 
I did not know that they torture men and beasts to a 
terrible death. They mount in a black mist from the 
grass; it is impossible for one to keep one’s eyes open. 
Dogs, bears, and strong men have been known to die of 
pain and nervous exhaustion under their attacks. 

After an hour of torture we forced our way through the 
network of underbrush back to the river, and soon found 
a narrow path. There was a slight breeze, and the mos¬ 
quitoes were not so aggressive. There was still a three- 
mile walk, along the shore bordering the rapids, before 
we could rest; and during the last mile each step caused 
such agony that we almost crawled. 

When we removed our shoes, we found them full of 
blood. Our feet were blistered ; the blisters had broken 
and blistered again. 












































































































* 




























































. 

















ALASKA: TUE GREAT COUNTRY 


453 


But we had seen the Grand Canyon of the Yukon — 
which Schwatka in an evil hour named Miles, for the 
distinguished army-general — and White Horse Rapids ; 
and seeing them was worth the blisters and the blood. 
And we know how far it is from the head of the canyon 
to White Horse town. No matter what the three “ oldest ” 
settlers, the railway folders, Schwatka, and all the others 
say, — we know. It is fifteen miles ! Also, among those 
who scoff at Rex Beach for having the villain in his last 
novel eaten up by mosquitoes on the Yukon, we are not 
to be included. 

Numerous and valuable copper mines lie within a ra¬ 
dius of fifteen miles from White Horse. The more impor¬ 
tant ones are those of the Pennsylvania syndicate, The B. 
N. White Company, The Arctic Chief, The Grafter, the 
Anaconda, and the Best Chance. The Puebla, operated 
by B. N. White, lies four miles northwest of town. It 
makes a rich showing of magnatite, carrying copper values 
averaging four and five per cent, with a small by-product 
of gold and silver. 

In the summer of 190T this mine had in sight two hun¬ 
dred and fifty thousand tons of pay ore. The deepest 
development then obtained had a hundred-foot surface 
showing three hundred feet in width, and stripped along 
with the strike of the vein seven hundred feet, showing 
a solid, unbroken mass of ore. Tunnels and cross-cuts 
driven from the bottom of the shaft showed the body to 
be the same width and the values the same as the surface 
outcrop. 

The Arctic Chief ranks second in importance ; and 
extensive development work is being carried on at all 
the mines. The railway is building out into the mining 
district. 

Six-horse stages are run from White Horse to Dawson 


454 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


after the river closes. The distance is four hundred and 
thirty-five miles ; the fare in the early autumn and late 
spring is a hundred and twenty-five dollars ; in winter, 
when sleighing is good, sixty dollars. 

White Horse was first named Closeleigh by the railway 
company; but the name was not popular. At one place 
in the rapids the waves curving over rocks somewhat 
resemble a white horse, with wildly floating mane and 
tail of foam. This is said to be the origin of the name. 

White Horse is only eight years old. The hotel accom- / 
modations, if one does not mind a little thing like not 
being able to eat, are good. The rooms are clean and 
comfortable and filled with sweet mountain and river air. 

At eight o’clock that evening the steamer Dawson 
struggled up the river and landed within fifty yards of 
the hotel. We immediately went aboard ; but it was 
nine o’clock the next morning before we started, so we 
had another night in White Horse. 

The Yukon steamers are four stories high, with a place 
for a roof garden. I could do nothing for some time but 
regard the Dawson in silent wonder. It seemed to glide 
along on the surface of the water, like a smooth, flat stone 
when it is “ skipped.” 

The lower deck is within a few inches of the water ; 
and high above is the pilot-house, with its lonely-looking 
captain and pilot ; and high, oh, very high, above them — 
like a charred monarch of a Puget Sound forest — rises the 
black smoke-stack, from which issue such vast funnels of 
smoke and such slow and tremendous breathing. 

This breathing is a sound that haunts every memory of 
the Yukon. It is not easy to describe, it is so slow and 
so powerful. It is not quite like a cough—unless one 
could cough in instead of out; it is more like a sobbing, 
shivering in-drawing of the breath of some mighty animal. 

It echoes from point to point, and may be heard for 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 455 

several miles on a still day. Day and night it moves 
through the upper air, and floats on ahead, often echoing 
so insistently around some point which the steamer has 
not turned, that the “ cheechaco ” is deluded into the 
belief that another steamer is approaching. 

I he captains and pilots of the Yukon are the loneliest- 
looking men! First of all, they are so far away from 
everybody else; and second, passengers, particularly 
women, are not permitted to be in the pilot-house, nor on 
the texas, nor even on the hurricane-deck, of steamers 
passing through Yukon Territory. 

Between White Horse and Lake Lebarge the river is 
about two hundred yards wide. The water is smooth and 
deep. It loiters along the shore, but the current is strong 
and bears the steamer down with a rush, compelling it to 
zigzag ceaselessly from shore to shore. 

Going down the Yukon for the first time, one’s heart 
stands still nearly half the time. The steamer heads 
straight for one shore, approaches it so closely that its 
bow is within six inches of it, and then swings powerfully 
and starts for the opposite shore — its great stern wheel 
barely clearing the rocky wall. 

The serious vexations and real dangers of navigation 
in this great river, from source to mouth, are the sand and 
gravel bars. One may go down the Yukon from White 
Horse to St. Michael in fourteen days ; and one may be a 
month on the way — pausing, by no will of his own, on 
various sand-bars. 

The treacherous current changes hourly. It is seldom 
found twice the same. It washes the sand from side to 
side, or heaps it up in the middle — creating new channels 
and new dangers. The pilot can only be cautious, un¬ 
tiringly watchful — and lucky. The rest he must leave 
to heaven. 

It is twenty-seven miles from White Horse to Lake 


456 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Lebarge. Midway, the Tahkeena River flows into the 
Lewes, running through banks of clay. 

Lake Lebarge is thirty-two miles long and three and a 
half wide. The day was suave. The water was silvery 
blue, and as smooth as satin; gray, deeply veined cliffs were 
reflected in the water, whose surface was not disturbed 
by a ripple or wave ; the air was soft; farther down the 
river were forest fires, and just sufficient haze floated 
back to give the milky old-rose lights of the opal to the 
atmosphere. There is one small island in the lake. It 
was not named ; and it received the name —as Vancouver 
would say — of Fireweed Isle, because it floated like a 
rosy cloud on the pale blue water. 

The Indians called this lake Kluk-tas-si, and Schwatka 
favored retaining it; but the French name has endured, 
and it is not bad. 

The Lake Lebarge grayling and whitefish are justly 
famed. Steamers stop at some lone fisherman’s landing 
and take them down to Dawson, where they find ready 
sale. At Lower Lebarge there is a post-office and a 
telegraph station. Our steamer paused; two men came 
out in a boat, delivered a large supply of fish, received a 
few parcels of mail, and went swinging back across the 
water. 

A dreary log-cabin stood on the bank, labelled “ Clark’s 
Place.” A woman in a scarlet dress, walking through 
the reeds beside the beach, made a bit of vivid color. It 
seemed very, very lonely — with that kind of loneliness 
that is unendurable. 

A quarter of a mile farther, around a bend in the shore, 
the boat landed at the telegraph station, where the Cana¬ 
dian flag was flying. 

The different reaches of the Yukon are called locally 
by very confusing names. The river rising in Summit 
Lake on the White Pass railway is called both Lewes and 


ALASKA : THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


457 


Yukon; the stretch immediately below Lake Lebarge is 
called Lewes, Thirty-Mile, and Yukon. When we reach 
the old Hudson Bay post of Selkirk, however, our per¬ 
plexities over this matter are at an end. The Pelly River 
here joins the Lewes, and all agree that the splendid 
river that now surges on to the sea is the Yukon. 

It is daylight all the time, and no one should sleep be¬ 
tween White Horse and Dawson. Not an hour of this 
beautiful voyage on the Upper Yukon should be wasted. 

The banks are high and bold, for the most part spring¬ 
ing sheer out of the water in columns and pinnacles of 
solid stone. There are also forestated slopes rising to 
peaks of snow; and the same kind of clay cliffs that we 
saw at White Horse, white and shining in the bluish light 
of morning, but more beautiful still in the mysterious 
rosy shadows of midnight. 

There are some striking columns of red rock along 
Lake Lebarge, and their reflections in the water at sunset 
of a still evening are said to be entrancing: “ two warm 
pictures of rosy red in the sinking sun, joined base to 
base by a thread of silver, at the edge of the other shore. ” 

There are many high hills of soft gray limestone, 
veined and shaded with the green of spruce; vast slopes, 
timbered heavily; low valleys and picturesque mouths of 
rivers. 

Five-Finger, or Rink, Rapids is caused by a contraction 
of the river from its usual width to one of a hundred and 
fifty yards. Five bulks of stone, rising to a perpendicular 
height of forty or fifty feet, are stretched across the chan¬ 
nel. The steamer seems to touch the stone walls as it 
rushes through on the boiling rapids. 

The Upper Ramparts of the Yukon begin at Fort Sel¬ 
kirk. Here the waters cut through the lower spurs of 
the mountains, and for a distance of a hundred and fifty 
miles, reaching to Dawson, the scenery is sublime. 


458 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

“ Quiet Sentinel” is a rocky promontory which, seen in 
profile, resembles the face and entire figure of a woman. 
She stands with her head slightly bowed, as if in prayer, 
with loose draperies flowing in classic lines to her feet, 
and with a rose held to her lips. One of the greatest 
singers of the present time might have posed for the 
“ Quiet Sentinel.” 

Rivers and their valleys are more famed in the northern 
interior than towns. Teslin, Tahkeena, Teslintoo, Big 
and Little Salmon, Pelly, Stewart, White, Forty-Mile, 
Indian, Sixty-Mile, Macmillan, Klotassin, Porcupine, 
Chandlar, Koyukuk, Unalaklik, Tanana, Mynook,—these 
be names to conjure with in the North; while those south 
of the Yukon and tributary to other waters have equal 
fame. 

As for the Klondike, it is the only stream of its size, 
being but the merest creek and averaging a hundred feet 
in width, which has given its name to one whole country 
and to a portion of another country. During the past 
decade it has not been unusual to hear the name Klondike 
Country applied to all Alaska and that part of Canada 
adjacent to the Klondike district. The tiny, gold-bearing 
creeks, from ten to twenty feet wide, tributary to the 
Klondike, are known by name and fame in all parts of 
the world to-day. They are Bonanza, Hunker, Too- 
Much-Gold, Eldorado, Rock, North Fork, All-Gold, 
Gold-Bottom, and others of less importance. The Bo¬ 
nanza flows into the Klondike at Dawson, and it is but 
a half-hour’s walk to the dredge at work in this stream. 

In 1833 Baron Wrangell directed Michael Tebenkoff to 
establish Fort St. Michael’s on the small island in Norton 
Sound to which the name of the fort was given. Three 
years later it was attacked by natives, but was success¬ 
fully defended by Kurupanoff, who was in charge. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


459 


In 1836 a Russian named Glasunoff entered the delta 
of the Yukon, ascending the river as far as the mouth ot 
the Anvik River. In 1838 Malakoff extended the explo¬ 
ration as far as Nulato, where he established a Russian 
post and placed Notarmi in command. 

When the garrison returned to St. Michael’s on ac¬ 
count of the failure of provisions, the following winter, 
natives destroyed the fort and all buildings which had 
been erected. It was rebuilt and again destroyed in 
1839. In 1841 it once more arose under Derabin, who 
remained in command. The following year Lieutenant 
Zagoskin reached Nulato, ascending to Nowikakat in 1843. 

The Russians were therefore established on the lower 
Yukon several years before the English established them¬ 
selves upon the upper river. 

In 1840 Mr. Robert Campbell was sent by Sir George 
Simpson to explore the Upper Liard River. Mr. Camp¬ 
bell ascended the river to its head waters, crossed the 
mountains, and descended the Pelly River to the Lewes, 
where, eight years later, he established Fort Selkirk. 

This famous trading post was short-lived. In 1851 it 
was attacked by a band of savage Chilkahts and was sur¬ 
rendered, without resistance, by Mr. Campbell, who had 
but two men with him at the time. They were not 
molested by the Indians, who plundered and burned the 
warehouses and forts. 

Only the chimneys of the fort were found by Lieuten¬ 
ant Schwatka in 1883. As late as 1890 this point was 
considered the head of navigation on the Yukon. 

In 1847 Fort Yukon was established by Mr. A. II. 
McMurray, of the Hudson Bay Company. Following 
McMurray and Campbell, came Joseph Harper, Jack 
McQuesten, and A. H. Mayo, who established a trading 
post on the Yukon at Fort Reliance, six miles below the 
mouth of the Klondike. 


460 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


In 1860 Robert Kennicott reached Fort Yukon, and in 
the following spring descended to a point that was for 
several years known as “ the Small Houses ” — the most 
attractive name in the Yukon country. In 1865 an ex¬ 
pedition was organized in San Francisco by the Western 
Union Telegraph Company for the purpose of building a 
telegraph line from San Francisco to Behring Strait — 
which was to be crossed by cable to meet the Russian 
government line at the mouth of the Amoor River. One 
party, headed by Robert Kennicott, was sent by ocean to 
the mouth of the Yukon; and another, in charge of 
Michael Byrnes, up the inside route to the Stikine River. 
Going from that river to the head waters of the Taku, 
they followed the chain of lakes and the Hootalinqua 
River to the Lewes, which they reached on the Tahco 
Arm of Lake Tagish. At that time it became known 
that the Atlantic cable had proven to be a success, and 
the daring and hazardous northern project was abandoned. 

As late as the date of this expedition it was not deter¬ 
mined positively whether the Kwihkpak was one of the 
mouths of the Yukon, or a separate river. Upon the re¬ 
call of the telegraph expedition, the only portion of the 
great river that had not been explored was the short 
distance between Lake Tagish and Lake Lebarge. 

There have been several claimants for the honor of 
having been the first white man to cross the divide be¬ 
tween Lynn Canal and the head waters of the Yukon. 
The first was a mythological, nameless Scotchman em¬ 
ployed by the Hudson Bay Company, who is supposed to 
have reached Fort Selkirk in 1864, and to have proceeded 
alone over the old “grease-trail” of the Chilkahts to 
Lynn Canal. He fell into the hands of the Indians and 
was held until ransomed by the captain of the Labouchere. 
Because he had long, flowing locks of red hair, he was 
supposed to be a kind of white shaman, and his life was 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


461 


spared by the savages. This story is doubted by many 
authorities. 

The honor was claimed, also, by George Holt, who is 
known to have crossed one of the passes in 1872, and 
twice in later years. James Wynn, of Juneau, went over 
in 1879 and returned in 1880. 

About this time the Indians seemed to realize that pack¬ 
ing over the trail might become more profitable than act¬ 
ing as middlemen between the coast Indians and those of 
the interior. In 1881 and 1882 small parties of miners, 
and even one or two travelling alone, crossed unmolested. 
In 1888 Lieutenant Schwatka had his outfit packed over 
the Dyea—Taiya, or Dayay, it was then called—Trail; 
and then, dismissing his packers, built rafts and made 
his perilous way down the unknown river — portaging, 
“ shooting ” the Grand Canyon, White Horse, and Rink 
Rapids, sticking on sand-bars, almost dying of mosquitoes, 
and, saddest of all for us who come after him, naming 
every object that met his eyes with the deplorable taste 
of Vancouver. 

Of a river, called Kut-lah-cook-ah by the Chilkahts, he 
complacently remarks: — 

“I shortened its name and called it after Professor 
Nourse, of the United States Naval Observatory.” 

Nourse, Saussure, Perrier, Payer, Bennett, Wheaton, 
Prejevalsky, Richards, Watson, Nares, Bove, Marsh, 
McClintock, Miles, Richthofen, Hancock, d’Abbadie, Daly, 
Nordenskiold, Von Wilczek ; these be the choice namings 
that he bestowed upon the beautiful objects along the 
Yukon. It is, perhaps, a cause for thankfulness that he 
did not rename the Yukon Schwatka or Ridderbjelka ! 
However, many of his namings have died a natural death. 

The name Yukon is said to have first been applied to 
the river in 1846 by Mr. J. Bell, of the Hudson Bay 
Company, who went over from the MacKenzie and de- 


462 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


scended the Porcupine to the great river which the In¬ 
dians called Yukon. He retained the name, although 
for some time it was spelled Youkon. For this, may he 
ever be of blessed memory. I should like to contribute 
to a monument to perpetuate his name and fame. 

To-day Fort Selkirk is of some importance as a trading 
post and because of the successful farming of the vicinity, 
and all passing steamers call there. Joseph Harper was 
located there at the time of George Carmack’s brilliant 
discovery of gold on Bonanza Creek, in August, 1896. 
Harper and Joseph Ladue, who was settled as a trader at 
Sixty-Mile, immediately transferred their stocks to the 
junction of the Yukon, Klondike, and Bonanza, and estab¬ 
lished the town which they named Dawson, in honor of 
Dr. George M. Dawson. 

In 1887 Mr. William Ogilvie headed a Canadian ex¬ 
ploring party into the Yukon. His boats were towed up 
to Taiya Inlet by the United States naval vessel Pinta; 
and while waiting there for supplies, he, having asked for, 
and received, authority from Commander Newell, made 
surveys at the heads of the inlets. It was only through 
the intercession of the commander, furthermore, that Mj\ 
Ogilvie was permitted by the Chilkalits to proceed over 
the pass. “ I am strongly of the opinion,” Mr. Ogilvie 
says in his report, “ that these Indians would have been 
much more difficult to deal with if they had not known 
that Commander Newell remained in the inlet to see that 
I got through in safety.” 

Miners had been going over the trail for several years, 
but the Chilkalits were enraged at the British because em¬ 
ployees of the Hudson Bay Company had killed some of 
their tribe. 

In the meantime Dr. George M. Dawson, heading an¬ 
other Dominion party, was working along the Stikine 
River. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


463 


Dr. Dawson and Mr. Ogilvie—afterward governor of 
Yukon territory—made extensive surveys and explora¬ 
tions throughout the Yukon district; their reports upon 
the country are voluminous, thorough, and of much in¬ 
terest. They were both men of superior attainments, and 
their influence upon the country and upon the people who 
rushed into the new mining district was great. To-day 
the name of ex-Governor Ogilvie is heard more frequently 
in the Klondike than that of any other person, even though 
his residence is elsewhere. He served as governor during 
the reckless and picturesque days when to be a governor 
meant to be a man in the highest sense of the word. 


CHAPTER XLIII 


Dawson ! It was a name to stir men’s blood ten years 
ago, —a wild, picturesque, lawless mining-camp, whose like 
had never been known and never will be known again. 

All kinds and conditions of men and women were rep¬ 
resented. Miners, prospectors, millionnaires, adventurers, 
wanderers, desperadoes; brave-hearted, earnest women, 
dissolute dance-hall girls, and, more dangerous still, the 
quiet, seductive adventuress—they were all there, side by 
side, tent by tent, cabin by cabin. 

Almost daily new discoveries were made and stampedes 
occurred. Every little creek flowing into the Klondike 
was found rich in gold. The very names that these 
creeks received—All-Gold, Too-Much-Gold, Gold-Bottom 
—turned men’s blood to fire. The whole country seemed 
to have gone mad of excitement and the lust for gold. 
The white mountain passes grew black with struggling 
human beings—fighting, falling, rising, fighting on. It 
was like the blind stampeding of crazed animals upon a 
plain ; nothing could check them save exhaustion or death. 
When the fever burned out in one and left him low, an¬ 
other sprang to take his place. Dawson, like Skaguay, 
grew from dozens to hundreds in a day; from hundreds 
to thousands; tents gave place to cabins; cabins, to sub' 
stantial frame buildings. 

Ah, to have been there in the old days! Who would 
not have suffered the early hardships, paid the price, 
and paid it cheerfully, for the sake of seeing the life and 
being a part of it before it was too late ? 

464 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 465 

Now it is forever too late. The glory of what it once 
was is all that remains. To-day Dawson is so quiet, so 
dull, so respectable, that one unconsciously yawns in its 
face. 

But men’s eyes still kindle when their memories of old 
days are stirred. 

“They were great times,” they say, looking at one 
another. 

“ They could only come once. They were times of 
blood and gold ; of dance and song; of glitter and show 
—and starvation and death. We worked all day and 
danced or gambled all night. Our only passions were 
for women and gold. If we couldn’t get the women we 
wanted, the men that did get ’em fought their way to 
’em, inch by inch; if we couldn’t dig the gold out of 
the earth, we got it in some other way. 

“All the best buildings were occupied by saloons. 
Every saloon had a dance-hall in the back of it; not 
that the girls had to keep to their quarters, either — they 
had the run of the whole shebang. Every saloon had 
its gambling rooms, too—unless the tables and games 
were right out in the open. I tell you, it was tough. 
You can’t begin to understand the situation unless you’d 
been here. There wasn’t a hotel nor a corner where a 
man could go in and get warm except in a saloon — 
and with the thermometer fooling in the neighborhood 
of fifty below, he didn’t stand around outside with his 
hands in his pockets, not to any great extent. Most 
likely his pockets was naturally froze shut, anyhow, and 
the only way he could get ’em thawed out was to go 
into a saloon. That thawed ’em'quick enough. It not 
only thawed ’em out; it most gen’rally thawed ’em wide 
open. 

“I tell you, the worst element in a mining-camp is 
women. They follow a man and console him when he’s 


466 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


down on his luck; they follow him through thick and 
thin; and they get such a hold on him that, when he 
wants to get back to decent ways and decent women, 
he just naturally can’t do it. Young fellows don’t real¬ 
ize it. They don’t see it being done; they see it after 
it is done and can’t be undone. 

“ As soon as the mounted police took holt of Daw¬ 
son, with Inspector Constantine at the head, there was 
a sure change. Still, even the mounted-police doctrine 
does have some drawbacks. I noticed they couldn’t 
make the post-office clerks turn out letters unless you 
slipped two-three dollars into their outstretched hands. 
I noticed that.” 

To-day Dawson is a pretty, clean-streeted town built 
of log and frame buildings. In the hottest summer the 
earth never thaws deeper than eighteen inches, and no 
foundation can be obtained for brick buildings. For the 
same reason plastering is not advisable, the uneven 
freezing and thawing proving ruinous to both brick and 
plaster. 

The first objects to greet the visitor’s eyes are the 
large buildings of the great commercial and transpor¬ 
tation companies of the North, along the bank of the 
river. Passing through these one finds one’s self upon a 
busy, but unconventional, thoroughfare. Dawson is built 
solidly to the hill, extending about a mile along the 
water-front; and the most attractive part of the town 
is the village of picturesque log cabins climbing over 
the lower slopes of the hill. They are not large, but 
they are all built with the roof extending over a wide 
front porch. The entire roof of each cabin is covered 
several inches deep with earth, and at the time of our 
visit — the first week of August — these roofs were grown 
with brilliant green grasses and flowers to a height of 
from twelve to eighteen inches. They were literally cov* 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


467 


ered with the bloom of a dozen or more varieties of 
wild flowers. Every window had its flaming window- 
box ; every garden, its gay beds ; and there were even 
boxes set on square fence posts and running the entire 
length of fences themselves, from which vines drooped 
and trailed and flowers blew. Standing at the river 

and looking toward the hill, the whole town seemed 

a mass of bloom sloping up to the green, which, in 
turn, sloped on up to the blue. 

We had heard so much about the exorbitant prices of 
the Klondike, that we were simply speechless when a very 
jolly, sandy-haired Scotch gentleman offered to take our 
two steamer trunks, three heavy suit cases, and two shawl- 
straps to the hotel which we had blindly chosen, for the 
sum of two dollars. We had expected to pay five; and 

when he first asked two and a half, we stood as still 

as though turned to stone — and all for joy. He, how¬ 
ever, evidently mistaking our silence, doubtless felt the 
prick of the stern conscience of his ancestors, for he 
hastily added : — 

“Well, seeing you’re ladies, we’ll call it an even two.” 

We agreed to the price coldly, pretending to consider 
it an outrage. 

“ My name is Angus McDonald,” said he, with re¬ 
proach. “ When a McDonald says that his price is the 
lowest in the town, his word may be taken. If you come to 
Dawson twenty years from now, Angus will be standing 
here waiting to handle your baggage at the lowest price.” 

We gave him our keys and he attended to all the cus¬ 
toms details for us. We had left Seattle on the evening 
of the 24th of July; had stopped for several hours at 
Ketchikan, Wrangell, Metlakahtla, Juneau, Treadwell, 
and Taku Glacier; a day and a night at Skaguay; two 
nights and a day at White Horse; had made short pauses 
at Selkirk and Lower Lebarge — to say nothing of hours 


468 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


spent in “ wooding-up,” which is a picturesque and sure 
feature of Yukon voyages; and at noon on the fifth day 
of August we were settled at the “ Kenwood ” — the 
dearest hotel at which it has ever been my good fortune 
to tarry even for a day. I do not mean the most stylish, 
nor the most elegant, nor even the most comfortable; nor 
do I mean the dearest in price; but the dearest to my 
heart. It is kept in a neat, cheerful, and homelike style 
by Miss Kinney — who had almost as many malamute 
puppies, by the way, as she had guests. 

When we gave Mr. Angus McDonald our keys, it was 
not quite decided as to our hotel; but when we learned 
that we were sufficiently respectable in appearance to be 
accepted by Miss Kinney, we telephoned for our trunks. 
Then we forgot all about paying for them, and set out for 
a walk. When we returned, luncheon was being served ; 
our trunks were in our rooms, but — Mr. Angus Mc¬ 
Donald had gone off with our keys! We did not know 
then what we know now ; that Mr. Angus McDonald and 
his retained keys are a Dawson joke. It seems that when¬ 
ever one does not pay in advance for the delivery of his 
trunks, Mr. McDonald drives away with the keys in his 
pocket, whistling the merriest of Scotch tunes. 

The joke has its embarrassments, particularly when one 
has descended to the Grand Canyon of the Yukon in a 
sand-slide. 

The traveller in Alaska who desires to retain his own 
self-respect and that of his fellow-man will never criticise 
a price nor ask to have it reduced. He is expected 
to contribute liberally to every church he enters, every 
Indian band he hears play, every charitable institution 
that may present its merits for his consideration, every 
purse that may be made up on steamers, whatsoever its 
object may be. Fees are from fifty cents to five dollars. 
A waiter on a Yukon steamer threw a quarter back at a 



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ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 469 

man who had innocently slipped it into his hand. Later, I 
saw him in the centre of a group of angry waiters and 
cabin-boys to whom he was relating his grievance. 

Since one is constantly changing steamers, and has 
a waiter, a cabin-boy, a night-boy, and frequently a 
stewardess to fee on each steamer, this must be counted 
as one of the regular expenses of the trip. 

Other expenses we found to be greatly exaggerated on 
the “ outside.” Aside from our amusing experience with 
soap-bubble soda at White Horse and a bill for eight dol¬ 
lars and fifty cents for the poor pressing of three plain 
dress skirts and one jacket at Nome, we found nothing to 
criticise in northern prices. 

The best rooms at the “ Kenwood ” were only two dollars 
a day, and each meal was one dollar — whether one ate 
little or whether one ate much. It was always the latter 
with us ; for I have never been so hungry except at Ben¬ 
nett. I am convinced that the climate of the Yukon will 
cure every disease and every ill. We walked miles each 
day, drank much cold, pure water, and ate much whole¬ 
some, well-cooked, delicious food — including blueberries 
three times a day; and our sleep was sound, sweet, and 
refreshing. 

Dawson has about ten thousand inhabitants now; it 
once had twice as many, and it will have again. Mining 
in the Klondike is in the transition stage. It is passing 
from the individual owners to large companies and cor¬ 
porations which have ample capital to install expensive 
machinery and develop rich properties. It is the history 
of every mining district, and its coming to the Klondike 
was inevitable. Its first effect, however, is always “to 
ruin the camp.” 

“ Dawson’s a camp no longer,” said one who “went in ” 
in 1897, sadly. “ It’s all spoiled. The individual miner 
has let go and the monopolists are coming in to take his 


470 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

place. The good days are things of the past. Pretty 
soon they’ll be giving you change when you throw down 
two-bits for a lead pencil ! ” he concluded, with a lofty 
scorn — as much as to say : “ It will then be time to die.” 

Dawson is connected with the “ outside ” by telegraph. 
It has two daily newspapers, — which are metropolitan in 
style, — an electric-light plant, and a telephone system. 
Its streets are graded and side walked, and it is piped for 
water; but its lack of systematized sewerage—or what 
might be more appropriately called its systematized lack 
of sewerage — is an abomination. It is, however, not 
alone in its unsanitation in this respect, for Nome follows 
its example. 

Both homes and public buildings are of exceeding plain¬ 
ness of style, owing to the excessive cost of building in a 
region bounded by the Arctic Circle. The interiors of 
both, however, are attractive and luxurious in finish and 
furnishings ; and owing to the sway of the mounted 
police, the town has an air of cleanliness and orderliness 
that is admirable. 

A creditable building holds the post-office and customs 
office, and there is a public school building which cost 
fifty thousand dollars. The handsome administration 
building, standing in a green, park-like place, cost as 
much. There is a large court-house, the barracks of the 
mounted police, and other public buildings. Only the 
ruins remain of the executive mansion on the bank of 
the river, which was destroyed by fire two years ago and 
has not been rebuilt. It was the pride of Dawson. It 
was a large residence of pleasing architecture, lighted by 
electricity and finished throughout in British Columbia 
fir in natural tones. It contained the governor’s private 
office, palatial reception rooms and parlors, a library, a 
noble hall and stairway, a state dining room, a billiard 
room and smoking room, and spacious chambers. 


ALASKA: TUE GREAT COUNTRY 


471 


The governor’s office in the administration building is 
large and handsomely furnished. The commissioner of 
Yukon Territory is called by courtesy governor, and the 
present commissioner, Governor Henderson, is a gentle¬ 
man of distinguished presence and courtly manners. He 
had just returned from an automobile tour of inspection 
among “ the creeks.” 

Governors, elegant executive mansions and offices, and 
automobile tours — where eleven years ago was nothing 
but the creeks and the virgin gold which brought all that 
is there to-day ! We did not rebel at anything but the 
automobile; somehow, it jarred like an insult. An auto¬ 
mobile up among the storied creeks! 

There is a railroad, also, on which daily trains are run 
for a distance of twenty miles through the mining dis¬ 
trict. Six and eight horse stages will make the trip in 
one day for a party of six for fifty dollars. 

Thirty dollars is first asked. When that price is found to 
be satisfactory, it is immediately discovered that the small 
stage is engaged or out of repair; a larger one must be 
used, for which the price is forty dollars. When this price 
is agreed upon, some infirmity is discovered in the second 
stage; a third must be substituted, for whose all-day use 
the price is fifty dollars. If one cares to see the “cricks,” 
with no assurance that he will stumble upon a clean-up, 
at this price, he meekly takes his seat and is jolted up 
into the hills, paying a few dollars extra for his meals. 

He may, however, take an hour’s walk up Bonanza 
Creek and see the great dredges at work and the steam- 
pipes thawing the frozen gravel; and if he should voyage 
on down to Nome, he may take an hour’s run by railway 
out on the tundra and see thirty thousand dollars sluiced 
out any day. Almost anything is preferable to the 
“graft ” that is worked by the stage companies upon 
the helpless cheechacos at Dawson. 


472 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


The British Yukon is an organized territory, having a 
commissioner, three judges, and an executive legislature, 
of whose ten members five are elected and five appointed. 
The governor is also appointed. He presides over the 
sessions of the legislature, giving the appointed members 
a majority of one. 

The Yukon has a delegate in parliament, a gold com¬ 
missioner, a land agent, and a superintendent of roads. 
Three-fourths of the population of the territory are Ameri¬ 
cans, yet the town has a distinctly English, or Canadian, 
atmosphere. In incorporated towns there is a tax levy 
on property for municipal purposes. 

Order is preserved by the well-known organization of 
Northwest Mounted Police, whose members might be 
recognized anywhere, even when not in uniform, by 
their stern eyes, set lips, and peculiar carriage. 

The first station of mounted police in the Yukon was 
established at Forty-Mile, or Fort Cudahy, in 1895, when 
the discovery of gold was creating a mild excitement. 
Although so many boasts have been made by the British 
of their early settlement of the Yukon, not only was Mr. 
Ogilvie compelled to cross in 1887 under protection of 
the American Commander Newell, but in 1895 the mem¬ 
bers of the first force of mounted police to come into the 
country were forced to ascend the Yukon, by special per¬ 
mission of the United States government, so difficult 
were all routes through Yukon Territory. 

There are at the present time about sixty police 
stations in the territory, as well as garrisons at Dawson 
and White Horse. The smaller stations have only three 
men. They are scattered throughout the mining country, 
wherever a handful of men are gathered together. Be¬ 
tween Dawson and White Horse, where travel is heavy, a 
weekly patrol is maintained,' and a careful register is kept 
of all boats and passengers going up or down the river. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 473 

On the winter trail passengers are registered at each 
road house, with date of arrival and departure, making it 
easy to locate any traveller in the territory at any time. 
In the larger towns the mounted police serve as police 
officers ; they also assist the customs officers and fill the 
offices of police magistrate and coroner. A police launch 
to patrol the river in summer has been recommended. 

Dawson is laid out in rectangular shape, with streets 
about seventy feet wide and appearing wider because the 
buildings are for the most part low. In 1897 town lots 
sold for five thousand dollars, when there was nothing but 
tents on the flat at the mouth of the Klondike. The half- 
dollar was the smallest piece of money in circulation, as 
the quarter is to-day. Saw-mills were in operation, and 
dressed lumber sold for two hundred and fifty dollars a 
thousand feet. Fifteen dollars a day, however, was the 
ordinary wage of men working in the mines ; so that such 
prices as fifty cents for an orange, two dollars a dozen for 
eggs, and twenty-five cents a pound for potatoes did not 
seem exorbitant. 

There are rival claimants for the honor of the first 
discovery of gold on the Klondike, but George Carmack 
is generally credited with being the fortunate man. In 
August, 1896, he and the Indians “ Skookum Jim ” and 
“Tagish Charlie,”—Mr. Carmack’s brothers-in-law— 
were fishing one day at the mouth of the Klondike 
River. (This river was formerly called Thron-Dieuck, 
or Troan-Dike.) Not being successful, they concluded 
to go a little way up the river to prospect. On the six¬ 
teenth day of the month they detected signs of gold on 
what has since been named Bonanza Creek ; and from the 
first pan they washed out twelve dollars. They staked a 
“ discovery ” claim, and one above and below it, as is the 
right of discoverers. 

At that time the gold flurry was in the vicinity of 


474 ’ 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Forty-Mile. The first building ever done on the site of 
Dawson was ,that of a raft, upon which they proceeded 
to Forty-Mile to file their claims. On the same day 
began the great stampede to the little river which was 
soon to become world-famous. 

The days of the bucket and windlass have passed for 
the Klondike. Dredging'and hydraulicking have taken 
their place, and the trains and steamers are loaded with 
powerful machinery to be operated by vast corporations. 
It is certain that there are extensive quartz deposits in 
the vicinity, and when they are located the good and 
stirring days of the nineties will be repeated. Ground 
that was panned and sluiced by the individual miner is 
now being again profitably worked by modern methods. 
Scarcity of water has been the chief obstacle to a rapid 
development of the mines among the creeks; but experi¬ 
ments are constantly being made in the way of carrying 
water from other sources. 

It was perplexing to hear people talking about “Num¬ 
ber One Above on Bonanza,” “Number Nine Below on 
Hunker,” “Number Twenty-six Above on Eldorado,” 
and others, until it was explained that claims are num¬ 
bered above and below the one originally discovered on a 
creek. Eldorado is one of the smallest of creeks; yet, 
notwithstanding its limited water supply, it has been one 
of the richest producers. One reach, of about four miles 
in length, has yielded already more than thirty millions 
of dollars in coarse gold. 

The gold of the Klondike is beautiful. It is not a fine 
dust. It runs from grains like mustard seed up to large 
nuggets. 

When one goes up among the creeks, sees and hears 
what has actually been done, one can but wonder that 
any young and strong man can stay away from this mar¬ 
vellous country. Gold is still there, undiscovered; it is 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


475 


seldom the old prospector, the experienced miner, the 
“sour-dough,” that finds it; it is usually the ignorant, 
lucky “ cheechaco. ” It is like the game of poker, to 
which sits down one who never saw the game played and 
holds a royal flush, or four aces, every other hand. How 
young men can clerk in stores, study pharmacy, or learn 
politics in provincial towns, while this glorious country 
waits to be found, is incomprehensible to one with the 
red blood of adventure in his veins and the quick pulse 
of chance. Better to dare, to risk all and lose all, if it 
must be, than never to live at all; than always to be a 
drone in a narrow, commonplace groove; than never to 
know the surge of this lonely river of mystery and never 
to feel the air of these vast spaces upon one’s brow. 

No one can even tread the deck of a Yukon steamer 
and be quite so small and narrow again as he was before. 
The loneliness, the mystery, the majesty of it, reveals his 
own soul to his shrinking eyes,’ and he grows — in a day, 
in an hour, in the flash of a thought — out of his old self. 
If only to be borne through this great country on this 
wide water-way to the sea can work this change in a man’s 
heart, what miracle might not be wrought by a few years 
of life in its solitude? 

The principle of “ panning ” out gold is simple, and 
any woman could perform the work successfully without 
instruction, success depending upon the delicacy of manip¬ 
ulation. From fifty cents to two hundred dollars a pan 
are obtained by this old-fashioned but fascinating method. 
Think of wandering through this splendid, gold-set 
country in the matchless summers when there is not an 
hour of darkness; with the health and the appetite to 
enjoy plain food and the spirit to welcome adventure ; to 
pause on the banks of unknown creeks and try one’s luck, 
not knowing what a pan may bring forth; to lie down 


476 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


one night a penniless wanderer, so far as gold is con¬ 
cerned, and, perhaps, to sleep the next night on banks 
that wash out a hundred dollars to the pan — could one 
choose a more fascinating life than this? 

Rockers are wooden boxes which are so constructed 
that they gently shake down the gold and dispose of the 
gravel through an opening in the bottom. Sluicing is 
more interesting than any other method of extracting 
gold, but this will be described as we saw the process 
separate the glittering gold from the dull gravel at Nome. 


CHAPTER XLIV 


The two great commercial companies of the North 
to-day are the Northern Commercial Company and the 
North American Transportation and Trading Company. 
The Alaska Commercial Company and the North Ameri¬ 
can Transportation and Trading Company were the first 
to be established on the Yukon, with headquarters at St. 
Michael, near the mouth of the river. In 1898 the Alaska 
Exploration Company established its station across the bay 
from St. Michael on the mainland; and during that year 
a number of other companies were located there, only 
two of which, however, proved to be of any permanency — 
the Empire Transportation Company and the Seattle- 
Yukon Transportation Company. 

In 1901 the Alaska Commercial, Empire Transportation, 
and Alaska Exploration companies formed a combination 
which operated under the names of the Northern Commer¬ 
cial Company and the Northern Navigation Company, the 
former being a trading and the latter a steamship com¬ 
pany. Owing to certain conditions, the Seattle-Yukon 
Transportation Company was unable to join the combina¬ 
tion ; and its properties, consisting principally of three 
steamers, together with four barges, were sold to the 
newly formed company. During the first year of the 
consolidation the North American Transportation and 
Trading Company worked in harmony with the Northern 
Navigation Company, Captain I. N. Hibberd, of San Fran¬ 
cisco, having charge of the entire lower river fleet, with 
the exception of one or two small tramp boats. 

477 


478 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


By that time very fine combination passenger and 
freight boats were in operation, having been built at 
Unalaska and towed to St. Michael. In its trips up and 
down the river, each steamer towed one or two barges, 
the combined cargo of the steamer and tow being about 
eight hundred tons. It was impossible for a boat to make 
more than two round trips during the summer season, the 
average time required being fourteen days on the “up” 
trip and eight on the “ down ” for the better boats, and 
twenty and ten days respectively for inferior ones, with¬ 
out barges, which always added at least ten days to a 
trip. 

After a year the North American Transportation and 
Trading Company withdrew from the combination and 
has since operated its own steamers. 

Of all these companies the Alaska Commercial is the 
oldest, having been founded in 1868 ; it was the pioneer 
of American trading companies in Alaska, and was for 
twenty years the lessee of the Pribyloff seal rookeries. 
It had a small passenger and freight boat on the Yukon 
in 1869. The other companies owed their existence to 
the Klondike gold discoveries. 

The two companies now operating on the Yukon have 
immense stores and warehouses at Dawson and St. Michael, 
and smaller ones at almost every post on the Yukon ; 
while the N. C. Company, as it is commonly known, has 
establishments up many of the tributary rivers. 

As picturesque as the Hudson Bay Company, and far 
more just and humane in their treatment of the Indians, 
the American companies have reason to be proud of their 
record in the far North. In 1886, when a large number 
of miners started for the Stewart River mines, the agent 
of the A. C. Company at St. Michael received advice from 
headquarters in San Francisco that an extra amount of 
provisions had been sent to him, to meet all possible de- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


479 


mands that might be made upon him during the winter. 
He was further advised that the shipment was not made 
for the purpose of realizing profits beyond the regular 
schedule of prices already established, but for humane 
purposes entirely — to avoid any suffering that might 
occur, owing to the large increase in population. He 
was, therefore, directed to store the extra supplies as a 
reserve to meet the probable need, to dispose of the same 
to actual customers only and in such quantities as would 
enable him to relieve the necessities of each and every 
person that might apply. Excessive prices were pro¬ 
hibited, and instructions to supply all persons who might 
be in absolute poverty, free of charge, were plain and un¬ 
mistakable. 

Men of the highest character and address have been 
placed at the head of the various stations, — men with the 
business ability to successfully conduct the company’s im¬ 
portant interests and the social qualifications that would 
enable them to meet and entertain distinguished travellers 
through the wilderness in a manner creditable to the com¬ 
pany. Tourists, by the way, who go to Alaska without 
providing themselves with clothes suitable for formal 
social functions are frequently embarrassed by the omis¬ 
sion. Gentlemen may hasten to the company’s store — 
which carries everything that men can use, from a tooth¬ 
pick to a steamboat — and array themselves in evening 
clothes, provided that they are not too fastidious concern¬ 
ing the fit and the style; but ladies might not be so for¬ 
tunate. Nothing is too good for the people of Alaska, 
and when they offer hospitality to the stranger within 
their gates, they prefer to have him pay them the compli¬ 
ment of dressing appropriately to the occasion. If voya¬ 
gers to Alaska will consider this advice they may spare 
themselves and their hosts in the Arctic Circle some un- 
happy moments. 


480 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Yukon summers are glorious. There is not an hour 
of darkness. A gentleman who came down from “ the 
creeks ” to call upon us did not reach our hotel until 
eleven o’clock. He remained until midnight, and the 
light in the parlor when he took his departure was as at 
eight o’clock of a June evening at home. The lights were 
not turned on while we were in Dawson; but it is another 
story in winter. 

Clothes are not “ blued ” in Dawson. The first morn¬ 
ing after our arrival I was summoned to a window to 
inspect a clothes-line. 

“ Will you look at those clothes! Did you ever see 
such whiteness in clothes before?” 

I never had, and I promptly asked Miss Kinney what 
her laundress did to the clothes to make them look so 
white. 

“ I’m the laundress,” said she, brusquely. “ I come 
out here from Chicago to work, and I work. I was half 
dead, clerking in a store, when the Klondike craze come 
along and swept me off my feet. I struck Dawson broke. 
I went to work, and I’ve been at work ever since. I 
have cooks, and chambermaids, and laundresses; but it 
often happens that I have to be all three, besides landlady, 
at once. That’s the way of the Klondike. Now, I must 
go and feed those malamute pups; that little yellow one 
is getting sassy.” 

She had almost escaped when I caught her sleeve and 
detained her. 

“ But the clothes — I asked you what makes them so 
white — ” 

“Don’t you suppose,” interrupted she, irascibly, “that 
I have too much work to do to fool around answering the 
questions of a cheechaco ? I’m not travelling down the 
Yukon for fun ! ” 

This was distinctly discouraging; but I had set out to 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 481 

learn what had made those clothes so white. Besides, I was 
beginning to perceive dimly that she was not so hard as 
she spoke herself to be; so I advised her that I should not 
release her sleeve until she had answered my question. 

She burst into a kind of lawless laughter and threw her 
hand out at me. 

“ Oh, you ! Well, there, then ! I never saw your beat! 
There ain’t a thing in them there clothes but soap-suds, 
renched out, and sunshine. We don’t even have to rub 
clothes up here the way you have to in other places; and 
we never put in a pinch of blueing. Two-three hours of 
sunshine makes ’em like snow.” 

“ But how is it in winter ? ” 

She laughed again. 

“ Oh, that’s another matter. We bleach ’em out enough 
in summer so’s it’ll do for all winter. Let go my sleeve 
or you won’t get any blueberries for lunch.” 

This threat had the desired effect. Surely no woman 
ever worked harder than Miss Kinney worked. At four 
o’clock in the mornings we heard her ordering maids and 
malamute puppies about; and at midnight, or later, her 
springing step might be heard as she made the final rounds, 
to make sure that all was well with her family. 

We were greatly amused and somewhat embarrassed on 
the day of our arrival. We saw at a glance that the only 
vacant room was too small to receive our baggage. 

“ I’ll fix that,” said she, snapping her fingers. “ I just 
gave a big room on the first floor to two young men. I’ll 
make them exchange with you.” 

It was in vain that we protested. 

“Now, you let me be!” she exclaimed; “ I’ll fix this. 
You’re in the Klondike now, and you’ll learn how white 
men can be. Young men don’t take the best room and let 
women take the worst up here. If they come up here 
with that notion, they soon get it taken out of ’em — and 
21 


482 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


I’m just the one to do it. Now, you let me be! They’ll 
be tickled to death.” 

Whatever their state of mind may have been, the ex¬ 
change was made; but when we endeavored to thank 
her, she snapped us up with: — 

“ Anybody’d know you never lived in a white country, 
or you wouldn’t make such a fuss over such a little thing. 
We’re used to doing things for other people up here” she 
added, scornfully. , 

Miss Kinney gave us many surprises during our stay, 
but at the last moment she gave us the greatest surprise 
of all. Just as our steamer was on the point of leaving, 
she came running down the gangway and straight to us. 
Her hands and arms were filled with large paper bags, 
which she began forcing upon us. 

“There! ” she said. “I’ve come to say good-by and 
bring you some fruit. I’d given you one of those mala- 
mute puppies if I could have spared him. Well, good-by 
and good luck ! ” 

We were both so touched by this unexpected kindness in 
one who had taken so much pains to conceal every touch of 
tenderness in her nature, that we could not look at one an¬ 
other for some time; nor did it lessen our appreciation to 
remember how ceaselessly and how drudgingly Miss Kin¬ 
ney worked and the price she must have paid for those 
great bags of oranges, apples, and peaches — for freight 
rates are a hundred and forty dollars a ton on “ perishables.” 
It set a mist in our eyes every time we thought about it. 
It was our first taste of Arctic kindness; and, somehow, 
its flavor was different from that of other latitudes. 

Dawson is gay socially, as it has always been. In 
summer the people are devoted to outdoor sports, which 
are enjoyed during the long evenings. There is a good 
club-house for athletic sports in winter, and the theatres 
are well patronized, although, in summer, plays commence 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 4»o 

at ten or ten-thirty and are not concluded before one. As 
in all English and Canadian towns, business is resumed at 
a late hour in the morning, making the hours of rest cor¬ 
respond in length to ours. 

Two young Yale men who were travelling in our party 
had been longing to see a dance-hall, — a “ real Klondike 
dance-hall,” — but they came in one midnight, their faces 
eloquent with disgust. 

“ We found a dance-hall at last,” said one. “They hide 
their light under such bushels now that it takes a week to 
find one; the mounted police don’t stand any foolishness. 
Then — think of a dance-hall running in broad daylight! 
No mystery, no glitter, no soft, rosy glamour — say, it 
made me yearn for bread and butter. Do you know 
where Miss Kinney keeps her bread jar and blueberries? 
Honestly, I don’t know anything or any place that could 
cultivate a taste in a young man for sane and decent things 
like one of these dance-halls here. I never was so dis¬ 
appointed in my life. I can go to church at home ; I didn’t 
come to the Klondike for that. Why, the very music it¬ 
self sounded about as lively as ‘ Come, Ye Disconsolate!’ 
Come on, Billy ; let’s go to bed.” 

No one should visit Dawson without climbing, on a clear 
day, to the summit of the hill behind the town, which is 
called “ the Dome.” The view of the surrounding country 
from this point is magnificent. The course of the winding, 
widening Yukon may be traced for countless miles; the 
little creeks pour their tawny floods down into the Klon¬ 
dike before the longing eyes of the beholder; and faraway 
on the horizon faintly shine the snow-peaks that beautify 
almost every portion of the northern land. 

The wagon roads leading from Dawson to the mining 
districts up the various creeks are a distinct surprise. 
They were built by the Dominion government and are 
said to be the best roads to be found in any mining district 


484 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


in the world. A Dawson man will brag about the roads, 
while modestly silent about the gold to which the roads lead. 

44 You must go up into the creeks, if only to see the 
roads,” every man to whom one talks will presently say. 
44 You can’t beat ’em anywheres.” 

Claim staking in the Klondike is a serious matter. 
The mining is practically all placer, as yet, and a creek 
claim comprises an area two hundred and fifty feet along 
the creek and two thousand feet wide. This information 
was a shock to me. I had always supposed, vaguely, that 
a mining claim was a kind of farm, of anywhere from 
twenty to sixty acres; and to find it but little larger than 
the half of a city block was a chill to my enthusiasm. 
They explained, however, that the gravel filling a pan 
was but small in quantity, that it could be washed out in 
ten minutes, and that if every pan turned out but ten 
dollars, the results of a long day’s work would not be bad. 

Claims lying behind and above the ones that front on 
the creeks are called “hill” claims. They have the same 
length of frontage, but are only a thousand feet in width. 
In staking a claim, a post must be placed at each corner 
on the creek, with the names of the claim and owner and 
a general description of any features by which it may be 
identified; the locator must take out a free miner’s license, 
costing seven dollars and a half, and file his claim at the 
mining recorder’s office within ten days after staking. 
No one can stake more than one claim on a single creek, 
but he may hold all that he cares to acquire by purchase, 
and he may locate on other creeks. Development work 
to the amount of two hundred dollars must be done yearly 
for three years, or that amount paid to the mining re¬ 
corder; this amount is increased to four hundred dollars 
with the fourth year. The locator must secure a certifi¬ 
cate to the effect that the necessary amount of yearly 
work has been done, else the claim will be cancelled. 


































































« 






""<4 







. 
































- 















CHAPTER XLV 


When the D. R. Campbell drew away from the Dawson 
wharf at nine o’clock of an August morning, another of 
my dreams was “come true.” I was on my way down 
the weird and mysterious river that calls as powerfully in 
its way as the North Pacific Ocean. For years the mere 
sound of the word “Yukon” had affected me like the 
clash of a wild and musical bell. The sweep of great 
waters was in it — the ring of breaking ice and its thun¬ 
derous fall; the roar of forest fires, of undermined plung¬ 
ing cliffs, of falling trees, of pitiless winds; the sobs of 
dark women, deserted upon its shores, with white children 
on their breasts; the mournful howls of dogs and of their 
wild brothers, wolves; the slide of avalanches and the 
long rattle of thunder — for years the word “Yukon” had 
set these sounds ringing in my ears, and had swung 
before my eyes the shifting pictures of canyon, rampart, 
and plain ; of waters rushing through rock walls and 
again loitering over vast lowlands to the sea; of forestated 
mountains, rose thickets, bare hills, pale cliffs of clay, and 
ranges of sublime snow-mountains. Yet, with all that T 
had read, and all that I had heard, and all that I had 
imagined, I was unprepared for the spell of the Yukon; 
for the spaces, the solitude, the silence. At last I was to 
learn how well the name fits the river and the country, 
and how feeble and how ineffectual are both description 
and imagination to picture this country so that it may be 
understood. 


485 


486 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Six miles below Dawson the site of old Fort Reliance is 
passed, and forty-six miles farther Forty-Mile River 
pours its broad flood into the Yukon. About eight miles 
up this river, at the lower end of a canyon, a strong cur¬ 
rent has swept many small boats upon dangerous rocks 
and the occupants have been drowned. The head of 
the Forty-Mile is but a short distance from the great 
Xanana. 

The settlement of Forty-Mile is the pioneer mining- 
camp of the Yukon. The Alaska Commercial Company 
established a station here soon after the gold excitement 
of 1887; and, as the international boundary line crosses 
Forty-Mile River twenty-three miles from its mouth and 
many of the most important mining interests depending 
upon the town for supplies are on the American side, a 
bonded warehouse is maintained, from which American 
goods can be drawn without the payment of duties. As 
late as 1895 quite a lively town was at the mouth of the 
river, boasting even an opera house; but the town was 
depopulated upon the discovery of gold on the Klondike. 
Six years ago the settlement was flooded by water banked, 
up in Forty-Mile River by ice, and the residents were 
taken from upstairs windows in boats. The former name 
of this river was Che-ton-deg, or “Green Leaf,” River. 

Now there are a couple of dozen log cabins, a dozen or 
more red-roofed houses, and store buildings. The steamer 
pushed up sidewise to the rocky beach, a gang-plank was 
floated ashore, and a customs inspector came aboard. On 
the beach were a couple of ladies, some members of the 
mounted police in scarlet coats, and fifty malamute dogs, 
snapping, snarling, and fighting like wolves over the food 
flung from the steamer. 

The dog is to Alaska what the horse is to more civil¬ 
ized countries — the intelligent, patient, faithful beast of 
burden. He is of the Eskimo or “ malamute ” breed, 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 487 

having been bred with the wolf for endurance; or he is a 
“ husky ” from the Mackenzie River. 

Eskimo dogs are driven with harness, hitched to sleds, 
and teams of five or seven with a good leader can haul 
several hundred pounds, if blessed with a kind driver. In 
summer they have nothing to do but sleep, and find their 
food as best they may. Along the Yukon they haunt 

steamer-landings and are always fed by the stewards_ 

who can thus muster a dog fight for the pleasure of heart¬ 
less passengers at a moment’s notice. 

With the coming of winter a kind of electric strength 
seems to enter into these dogs. They long for the harness 
and the journeys over snow and ice; and for a time they 
leap and frisk like puppies and will not be restrained. They 
are about the size of a St. Bernard dog, but of very differ¬ 
ent shape ; the leader is always an intelligent and superior 
animal and his eyes frequently hold an almost human appeal. 
He is fairly dynamic in force, and when not in harness will 
fling himself upon food with a swiftness and a strength 
that suggest a missile hurled from a catapult. Nothing 
can check his course ; and he has been known to strike his 
master to the earth in his headlong rush of greeting — 
although it has been cruelly said of him that he has no 
affection for any save the one that feeds him, and not for 
him after his hunger is satisfied. 

The Eskimo dog seldom barks, but he has a mournful, 
wolflike howl. His coat is thick and somewhat like wool, 
and his feet are hard; he travels for great distances with¬ 
out becoming footsore, and at night he digs a deep hole 
in the snow, crawls into it, curls up in his own wool, and 
sleeps as sweetly as a pet Spitz on a cushion of down. 
His chief food is fish. If the Alaska dog is not affection¬ 
ate, it is because for generations he has had no cause for 
affection. No dog with such eyes — so asking and so 
human-like in their expression — could fail to be affec- 


488 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


tionate and devoted to a master possessing the qualities 
which inspire affection and devotion. 

In winter all the mails are carried by dogs, covering 
hundreds of miles. 

Half a mile below Forty-Mile the town of Cudahy was 
founded in 1892 by the North American Trading and 
Transportation Company, as a rival settlement. 

Fifty miles below Forty-Mile, at the confluence of Mis¬ 
sion Creek with the Yukon, is Eagle, having a population 
of three or four hundred people. It has the most north¬ 
erly customs office and military post, Fort Egbert, be¬ 
longing to the United States, and is the terminus of the 
Valdez-Eagle mail route and telegraph line. It is also of 
importance as being but a few miles from the boundary. 

Fort Egbert is a two-company post, and usually, as at 
the time of our visit, two companies are stationed there. 
The winter of 1904-1905 was the gayest in the social his¬ 
tory of the fort. Several ladies, the wives and the sisters 
of officers, were there, and these, with the wife of the com¬ 
pany’s agent and other residents of the town, formed a 
brilliant and refined social club. 

From November the 27th to January the 16th the sun 
does not appear above the hills to the south. The two 
“great ” days at Eagle are the 16th of January, — “when 
the sun comes back,” — and the day “ when the ice breaks 
in the river,” usually the 12th of May. On the former 
occasion the people assemble, like a band of sun-worship¬ 
pers, and celebrate its return. 

The vegetable and flower gardens of Eagle were a reve¬ 
lation of what may be expected in the agricultural and 
floral line in the vicinity of the Arctic Circle. Potatoes, 
cabbages, cauliflower, lettuce, turnips, radishes, and other 
vegetables were in a state of spendthrift luxuriance that 
cannot be imagined by one who has not travelled in a 
country where vegetables grow day and night. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


489 


In winter Eagle is a lonely place. The only mail it 
receives is the monthly mail passing through from Daw¬ 
son to Nome by dog sleds; and no magazines, papers, or 
parcels are carried. 

It was from Eagle that the first news was sent out to 
the world concerning Captain Amundsen’s wonderful dis¬ 
covery of the Northwest Passage; here he arrived in mid¬ 
winter after a long, hard journey by dog team from the 
Arctic Ocean and sent out the news which so many brave 
navigators of early days would have given their lives to 
be able to announce. 

Within five years a railroad will probably connect Eagle 
with the coast at Valdez ; meantime, there is a good gov¬ 
ernment trail, poled by a government telegraph line. 

Eagle came into existence in 1898, and the fort was 
established in 1899. 

“ Woodings-up ” are picturesque features of Yukon 
travel. When the steamer does not land at a wood yard, 
mail is tied around a stick and thrown ashore. Fancy 
standing, a forlorn and homesick creature, on the bank 
of this great river and watching a letter from home 
caught by the rushing current and borne away! Yet 
this frequently happens, for heart affairs are small 
matters in the Arctic Circle and receive but scant 
consideration. 

On the Upper Yukon wood is five dollars a cord ; on 
the Lower, seven dollars ; and a cord an hour is thrust 
into the immense and roaring furnaces. 

During “ wooding-up ” times passengers go ashore and 
enjoy the forest. There are red and black currants, crab- 
apples, two varieties of salmon-berries, five of huckle¬ 
berries, and strawberries. The high-bush cranberries are 
very pretty, with their red berries and delicate foliage. 

Nation is a settlement of a dozen log cabins roofed with 
dirt and flowers, the roofs projecting prettily over the 


490 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


front porches. The wife of the storekeeper has lived 
here twenty-five years, and has been “ outside ” only once 
in twelve years. Passengers usually go ashore especially 
to meet her, and are always cordially welcomed, but are 
never permitted to condole with her on her isolated life. 
The spell of the Yukon has her in thrall, and content 
shines upon her brow as a star. Those who go ashore to 
pity, return with the dull ache of envy in their worldly 
hearts ; for there be things on the Yukon that no worldly 
heart can understand. 

We left Eagle in the forenoon and at midnight landed 
at Circle City, which received this name because it was 
first supposed to be located within the Arctic Circle. We 
found natives building houses at that hour, and this is 
my most vivid remembrance of Circle. Gold was dis¬ 
covered on Birch Creek, within eight miles of the settle¬ 
ment, as early as 1892 ; and until the Klondike excite¬ 
ment this was the most populous camp on the Yukon, 
more than a thousand miners being quartered in the 
vicinity. Like other camps, it was then depopulated ; 
but many miners have now returned and a brilliant dis¬ 
covery in this vicinity may yet startle the world. The 
output of gold for 1906 was two hundred and fifty thou¬ 
sand dollars. About three hundred miners are operating 
on tributaries up Birch Creek. The great commercial 
companies are established at all these settlements on the 
Yukon, where they have large stores and warehouses. 

Early on the following morning we were on deck to 
cross the Arctic Circle. One has a feeling that a line 
with icicles dangling from it must be strung overhead, 
under which one passes into the enchanted realm of the 
real North. 

“Feel that?” asked the man from Iowa of a big, un¬ 
smiling Englishman. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


491 


“Feel — er—what?” said the Englishman. 

“ That shock. It felt like stepping on the third rail of 
an electric railway.-” 

But the Iowa humor was scorned, and the Englishman 
walked away. 

We soon landed at Fort Yukon, the only landing in the 
Arctic Circle and the most northerly point on the Yukon. 
This post was established at the mouth of the Porcupine 
in 1847 by A. H. McMurray, of the Hudson Bay Com¬ 
pany, and was moved in 1864 a mile lower on the Yukon, 
on account of the undermining of the bank by the wash 
of the river. During the early days of this post goods 
were brought from York Factory on Hudson Bay, four 
thousand miles distant, and were two years in transit. 
The whole Hudson Bay system, according to Dali, was 
one of exacting tyranny that almost equalled that of the 
Russian Company. The white men were urged to marry 
Indian, or native, women, to attach them to the country. 
The provisions sent in were few and these were consumed 
by the commanders of the trading posts or given to chiefs, 
to induce them to bring in furs. The white men received 
three pounds of tea and six of sugar annually, and no flour. 
This scanty supply was uncertain and often failed. Two 
suits of clothes were granted to the men, but nothing else 
until the furs were all purchased. If anything remained 
after the Indians were satisfied, the men were permitted to 
purchase ; but Indians are rarely satisfied. 

Fort Yukon has never been of importance as a mining 
centre, but has long been a great fur trading post for the 
Indians up the Porcupine. This trade has waned, how¬ 
ever, and little remains but an Indian village and the old 
buildings of the post. We walked a mile into the woods 
to an old graveyard in a still, dim grove, probably the 
only one in the Arctic Circle. 


CHAPTER XLVI 

The Yukon is a mighty and a beautiful river, and its 
memory becomes more haunting and more compelling 
with the passage of time. From the slender blue stream 
of its source, it grows, in its twenty-three hundred miles of 
wandering to the sea, to a width of sixty miles at its mouth. 
In its great course it widens, narrows, and widens ; cuts 
through the foot-hills of vast mountain systems, spreads 
over flats, makes many splendid sweeping curves, and 
slides into hundreds of narrow channels around spruce- 
covered islands. 

It is divided into four great districts, each of which has 
its own characteristic features. The valley extending 
from White Horse to some distance below Dawson is 
called the “upper Yukon,” or “upper Ramparts,” the 
river having a width of half a mile and a current of four 
or five miles an hour, and the valley in this district being 
from one to three miles in width. 

Following this are the great “Flats” — of which one 
hears from his first hour on the Yukon ; then, the “ Ram¬ 
parts”; and last, the “lower Yukon” or “lower river.” 

The Flats are vast lowlands stretching for two hundred 
miles along the river, with a width in places of a hundred 
miles. Their very monotony is picturesque and fascinates 
by its immensity. Countless islands are constantly form¬ 
ing, appearing and disappearing in the whimsical changes 
of the currents. Indian, white, and half-breed pilots 
patrol these reaches, guiding one steamer down and 

492 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


493 


another up, and by constant travel keeping themselves 
fairly familiar with the changing currents. Yet even 
these pilots frequently fail in their calculations. 

At Eagle a couple of gentlemen joined our party down 
the river on the Campbell , expecting to meet the same day 
and return on the famous Sarah —as famous as a steamer 
as is the island of the same name on the inland passage ; 
but they went on and on and the Sarah came not. One 
day, two days, three days, went by and they were still 
with us. One was in the customs service and his time 
was precious. Whenever we approached a bend in the 
river, they stood in the bow of the boat, eagerly staring 
ahead ; but not until the fourth day did the cry of 
“ Sarah ” ring through our steamer. Hastening on deck, 
we beheld her, white and shining, on a sand-bar, where 
she had been lying for several days, notwithstanding the 
fact that she had an experienced pilot aboard. 

Throughout the Flats lies a vast network of islands, 
estimated as high as ten thousand in number, threaded 
by countless channels, many of which have strong currents, 
while others are but still, sluggish sloughs. Mountains 
line the far horizon lines, but so far away that they fre¬ 
quently appear as clouds of bluish pearl piled along the 
sky; at other times snow-peaks are distinctly visible. 
Cottonwoods, birches, and spruce trees cover the islands 
so heavily that, from the lower deck of a steamer, one 
would believe that he was drifting down the single chan¬ 
nel of a narrow river, instead of down one channel of a 
river twenty miles wide. 

It is within the Arctic Circle that the Yukon makes its 
sweeping bend from its northwest course to the south¬ 
west, and here it is entered by the Porcupine ; twenty 
miles farther, by the Chandelar ; and just above the Ram¬ 
parts, by the Dali. These are the three important rivers 
of this stretch of the Yukon. 


494 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Many complain of the monotony of the Flats ; but for 
me, there was not one dull or uninteresting hour on the 
Yukon. In my quiet home on summer evenings I can 
still see the men taking soundings from the square bow of 
our steamer and hear their hoarse cries : — 

“ Six feet starboard ! Five feet port ! Seven feet star¬ 
board ! Five feet port ! Five feet starboard ! Four feet 
port ! ” At the latter cry the silent watchers of the pilot¬ 
house came to attention, and we proceeded under slow bell 
until a greater depth was reached. 

On the shores, as we swept past, we caught glimpses of 
dark figures and Indian villages, or, farther down the 
river, primitive Eskimo settlements ; and the stillness, 
the pure and sparkling air, the untouched wilderness, the 
blue smoke of a wood-chopper’s lonely fire, the wide spaces 
swimming over us and on all sides of us, charmed our 
senses as only the elemental forces of nature can charm. 
One longs to stay awake always on this river ; to pace 
the wide decks and be one with the solitude and the still¬ 
ness that are not of the earth, as we know it, but of God, 
as we have dreamed of him. 

The blue hills of the Ramparts are seen long before en¬ 
tering them. The valley contracts into a kind of canyon, 
from which the rampart-like walls of solid stone rise 
abruptly from the water. The hills are not so high as 
those of the Upper Ramparts, which bear marked resem¬ 
blance to the lower ; and although many consider the 
latter more picturesque, I must confess that I found no 
beauty below Dawson so majestic as that above. Many 
of the hills here have a rose-colored tinge, like the hills 
of Lake Bennett. 

In places the river does not reach a width of half a 
mile and is deep and swift. The shadows between the 
high rock-bluffs and pinnacled cliffs take on the mysteri¬ 
ous purple tones of twilight; many of the hills are cov- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


495 


ered with spruce, whose dark green blends agreeably with 
the gray and rose color. The bends here are sharp and 
many ; at the Rapids the current is exceedingly rapid, 
and Dali reported a fall of twelve feet to the half mile, 
with the water running in sheets of foam over a granite 
island in the middle of the stream. This was on June 1, 
1866. In August, 1883, Schwatka, after many hours of 
anxiety and dread of the reputed rapids, inquired of 
Indians and learned that he had already passed them. 
They were not formidable at the time of our voyage, — 
August, — and it is only during high stages of water that 
they present a bar to navigation. 

We reached Rampart at six o’clock in the morning. 
After Tanana, this is the loveliest place on the Yukon. 
Its sparkling, emerald beauty shone under a silvery blue 
sky. There was a long street of artistic log houses and 
stores on a commanding bluff, up which paths wound 
from the water. Roofs covered with earth and flowers, 
carried out in brilliant bloom over the porches, added the 
characteristic Yukon touch. Every dooryard and win¬ 
dow blazed with color. Narrow paths ran through tall 
fireweed and grasses over and around the hill — each 
path terminating, like a winding lane, in a pretty log- 
cabin home. There was an atmosphere of cleanliness, 
tidiness, and thrift not found in other settlements along 
the Yukon. 

Captain Mayo, who, with McQuesten, founded Rampart 
in 1873, still lives here. The two commercial companies 
have large stores and warehouses ; and residences were 
comfortably, and even luxuriously, furnished. 

Rampart is two hundred and thirty miles below Fort 
Yukon, and is about halfway between Dawson and the 
sea. It has a population of four or five hundred people 
— when they are in from the mines! — and almost as 
many fighting, hungry dogs. Its street winds, and the 


496 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


buildings follow its windings ; sometimes it stops alto¬ 
gether, and the buildings stop with it — then both go on 
again; and in front of all the public buildings are clean 
rustic benches, where one may sit and “ look to the rose 
about him.” The river here is half a mile wide, and on 
its opposite shore the green fields of the government ex¬ 
perimental station slope up from the water. 

Gold was discovered on Minook Creek, half a mile from 
town, in 1895, and the camp is regarded as one of the 
most even producers in Alaska. In 1906, despite an un¬ 
usually dry season, the output of the district was three 
hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 

In the afternoon of the same day we reached Tanana, 
which is, as I have said, the most beautiful place on the 
Yukon. It has a splendid site on a level plateau ; and 
all the springlike greenness, the cleanliness and order, 
the luxuriant vegetation, of Dawson, are outdone here. 
One walks in a maze of delight along streets of tropic, in¬ 
stead of arctic, bloom. The log houses are set far back 
from the streets, and the deep dooryards are seas of tremu¬ 
lous color, through which neat paths lead to flower-roofed 
homes. Cleanliness, color, and perfume are everywhere 
delights, but on the lonely Yukon their unexpectedness 
is enchanting. 

In 1900 Fort Gibbon was established here, and this 
post has the most attractive surroundings of any in Alaska. 
Tanana is situated at the mouth of the Tanana River, 
seventy-five miles below Rampart, and passengers for 
Fairbanks connect here with luxurious steamers for a 
voyage of three hundred miles up the Tanana. It is a 
beautiful voyage and it ends at the most progressive and 
metropolitan town of the North. 


CHAPTER XLYII 


In the autumn of 1902 Felix Pedro, an experienced 
miner and prospector, crossed the divide between Birch 
and McManus creeks and entered the Tanana Valley. 

Previous to that year many people had travelled 
through the valley, on their way to the Klondike, by the 
Valdez route ; and a few miners from the Birch Creek 
and Forty-Mile diggings had wandered into the Tanana 
country, without being able to do any important prospect¬ 
ing because of the distance from supplies; but Pedro was 
the first man to discover that gold existed in economic 
quantities in this region, and his coming was an event of 
historical importance. 

One of the best tests of the importance and value of 
geological survey work lies in the significant report of 
Mr. Alfred H. Brooks for the year of 1898 — four years 
before the discoveries of Mr. Pedro : — 

“We have seen that the little prospecting which has 
been done up to the present time has been too hurried and 
too superficial to be regarded as a fair test of the region. 
Our best information leads us to believe that the same 
horizons which carry gold in the Forty-Mile and Birch 
Creek districts are represented in the Tanana and White 
River basins. ... I should advise prospectors to care¬ 
fully investigate the small tributary streams of the lower 
White and of the Tanana from Mirror Creek to the 
mouth.” 

Pedro’s discovery was on the creek which bears his 
2 k 497 


498 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


name, and before another year gold was discovered on 
several other creeks. In 1901 a trading post was estab¬ 
lished by Captain E. T. Barnette, on the present site of 
Fairbanks, and the development of the country progressed 
rapidly. The Fairbanks Mining District was organized 
and named for the present Vice-President of the United 
States. In the autumn of 1903 eight hundred people 
were in the district, and about thirty thousand dollars 
had been produced, the more important creeks at that 
time being Pedro, Goldstream, Twin Creek, Cleary, Wolf, 
Chatham, and Fairbanks. In the fall of 1904 nearly 
four thousand miners had come in, and the year’s output 
was three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Fairbanks 
and Chena had grown to thriving camps, and a-brilliant 
prosperity reigned in the entire district. Roads were 
built to the creeks, sloughs were bridged, and Fairbanks’ 
“ boom ” was in full swing. It was the old story of a 
camp growing from tents to shacks in -a night, from 
shacks to three-story buildings in a month. The glory 
of the Klondike trembled and paled in the brilliance 
of that of Fairbanks. Every steamer for Valdez was 
crowded with men and women bound for the new camp 
by way of the Valdez trail; while thousands went by 
steamer, either to St. Michael and up the Yukon, or 
to Skaguay and down the Yukon, to the mouth of the 
Tanana. 

Fairbanks is now a camp only in name. It has all the 
comforts and luxuries of a city, and is more prosperous 
and progressive than any other town in Alaska or the 
Yukon. It started with such a rush that it does not seem 
to be able to stop. It is the headquarters of the Third 
Judicial District of Alaska, which was formerly at Ram¬ 
part ; it has electric light and water systems, a fire de¬ 
partment, excellent and modern hotels, schools, churches, 
hospitals, daily newspapers, a telegraph line to the outside 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 499 

world which is operated by the government, and a tele¬ 
phone system which serves not only the city, but all the 
creeks as well. 

The Tanana Mines Railway, or Tanana Valley Railway, 
as it is now called, was built in 1905 to connect Fairbanks 
with Chena and the richest mining claims of the district; 
and two great railroads are in course of construction 
from Prince William Sound. 

In 1906 the output of gold was more than nine millions 
of dollars, and had it not been for the labor troubles in 
1907, this output would have been doubled. In the 
earlier days of the camp the crudest methods of mining 
were employed; but with the improved transportation 
facilities, modern machinery was brought in and the diffi¬ 
culties of the development were greatly lessened. 

Upon a first trip to Fairbanks, the visitor is amazed 
at the size and the metropolitan style and tone of this 
six-year-old camp in the wilderness. 

It is situated on the banks of the Chena River, about 
nine miles from its confluence with the Tanana. It has 
a level town site, which looks as though it might ex¬ 
tend to the Arctic Circle. The main portion of the 
town is on the right bank of the river, the railway 
terminal yards, saw-mills, manufacturing plants, and in¬ 
dustries of a similar nature being located on the oppo¬ 
site shore, on what is known as Garden Island, the 
two being connected by substantial bridges. The city 
is incorporated and, like other incorporated towns of 
Alaska, is governed by a council of seven members, 
who elect a presiding officer who is, by courtesy, known 
as mayor. The executive officers of the municipal gov¬ 
ernment consist of a clerk, treasurer, police magistrate, 
chief of police, chief of the fire department, street com¬ 
missioner, and physician. 

The municipal finances are derived from a share in 


500 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

federal licenses, from the income derived from the local 
court, from poll taxes, and from local taxation of real 
and personal property. From all these sources the 
municipal treasury was enriched during the year of 1906 
by about ninety-five thousand dollars. 

Each of the three banks operates an assay office under 
the supervision of an expert. The population of the dis¬ 
trict is from fifteen to twenty thousand, of which five 
thousand belong permanently to the town. The climate 
is dry and sparkling; the summers are delightful, the 
winters still and not colder than those of Minnesota, 
Montana, and the Dakotas, but without the blizzards of 
those states. In 1906 the Goldest month was January, 
the daily mean temperature being thirty-six degrees below 
zero, but dry and still. Travel over the trail by dog team 
is continued throughout the winter, skating and other 
outdoor sports being as common as in Canada. 

Five saw-mills are in operation, with an aggregate daily 
capacity of a hundred and ten thousand feet, the entire 
product being used locally. There is an abundance of 
poplar, spruce, hemlock, and birch; an unlimited water 
supply; a municipal steam-heating plant ; two good hos¬ 
pitals ; two daily newspapers ; graded schools,— the four- 
year course of the high school admitting the student to 
the Washington State University and to high educational 
institutions of other states; a Chamber of Commerce and 
a Business Men’s Association ; twelve hotels, five of which 
are first class; while every industry is represented several 
times over. 

This is Fairbanks, the six-year-old mining-camp of the 
Tanana Valley. 



Sunrise on Beiiring Sea 





























CHAPTER XLVTII 


At Tanana our party was enlarged by a party of four 
gentlemen, headed by Governor Wilford B. Hoggatt, of 
Juneau, who was on a tour of inspection of the country 
he serves. 

Our steamer, too, underwent a change while we were 
ashore. We now learned why its bow was square and 
wide. It was that it might push barges up and down the 
Yukon; and it now proceeded, under our astonished eyes, 
to push four, each of which was nearly as large as itself. 
All the days of my life, as Mr. Pepys would say, I have 
never beheld such an object floating upon the water. 
The barges were fastened in front of us and on both sides 
of us; two were flat and uncovered, one was covered, but 
open on the sides, while the fourth was a kind of boat and 
was crowned with a real pilot-house, in which was a real 
wheel. 

We viewed them in open and hostile dismay, not yet 
recognizing them as blessings in disguise ; we then laughed 
till we wept, over our amazing appearance as we went 
sweeping, bebarged, down to the sea. Four barges to one 
steamboat! One barge would have seemed like an insult, 
but four were perfectly ridiculous. The governor was 
told that they constituted his escort of honor, but he would 
not smile. He was in haste to get to Nome; and barges 
meant delay. 

We swept down the Yukon like a huge bird with wide 
wings outspread; and those of us who did not care 

501 


502 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


whether we went upon a sand-bar or not soon became in¬ 
fatuated with barges. Straight in front of our steamer 
we had, on one barge, a low, clean promenade a hundred 
feet long by fifty wide; on the others were shady, se¬ 
cluded nooks, where one might lie on rugs and cushions, 
reading or dreaming, ever and anon catching glimpses 
of native settlements — tents and cabins ; thousands of 
coral-red salmon drying on frames ; groups of howling 
dogs ; dozens of silent dark people sitting or standing 
motionless, staring at their whiter and more fortunate 
brothers sweeping past them on the rushing river. 

Poor, lonely, dark people ! As lonely and as mysterious, 
as little known and as little understood, as the mighty 
river on whose shores their few and hard days are spent. 
Little we know of them, and less we care for them. The 
hopeless tragedy of their race is in their long, yearning 
gaze ; but we read it not. We look at them in idle curi¬ 
osity as we flash past them; and each year, as we return, 
we find them fewer, lonelier, — more like dark sphinxes 
on the river’s banks. As the years pass and their 
numbers diminish, the mournfulness deepens in their 
gaze ; it becomes more questioning, more haunting. The 
day will come when they will all be gone, when no longer 
dark figures will people those lonely shores ; and then we 
will look at one another in useless remorse and cry : — 

“ Why did they not complain ? Why did they not ask 
us to help them ? Why did they sit and starve for every¬ 
thing, staring at us and making no sign ? ” 

Alas ! when that day comes, we will learn — too late ! 
— that there is no appeal so poignant and so haunting as 
that which lies in the silence and in the asking eyes of 
these dark and vanishing people. 

Below Rampart the hills withdraw gradually until they 
become but blue blurs on the horizon line during the last 
miles of the river’s course. It is now the lower river 


ALASKA: THE GEEAT COUNTRY 


503 


and becomes beautifully channelled and islanded. Across 
these low, wooded, and watered plains the sunset burns 
like a maze of thistledown touched with ruby fire — burns 
down, at last, into the rose of dawn ; and the rose into 
emerald, beryl, and pearl. 

Not far above Nulato the Koyukuk pours its tawny 
flood into the Yukon. For many years the Koyukuk has 
given evidences of great richness in gold, but high prices 
of freight and labor have retarded its progress. During 
the past winter, however, discoveries have been made 
which promise one of the greatest stampedes ever known. 
Louis Olson, after several seasons in the district, experi¬ 
enced a gambler’s “ hunch ” that there “ was pay on 
Nolan Creek.” He and his associates started to sink, and 
the first bucket they got off bedrock netted seven dollars; 
the bedrock, a slate, pitched to one side of the hole, and 
when they had followed it down and struck a level bed¬ 
rock, they got two hundred and sixty dollars. 

“ Our biggest pan,” said Mr. Olson, telling the story 
when he came out, one of the richest men in Alaska, “ was 
eighteen hundred dollars. You can see the gold lying in 
sight.” 

Captain E. W. Johnson, of Nome, who had grub-staked 
two men in the Koyukuk, “ fell into it,” as miners say. 
They struck great richness on bedrock, and Captain John¬ 
son promptly celebrated the strike by opening fifteen 
hundred dollars’ worth of champagne to the camp. 

Within ten days three pans of a thousand dollars each 
were washed out. Coldfoot, Betties, Bergman, and 
Koyukuk are the leading settlements of this region, the 
first two lying within the Arctic Circle. Interest has re¬ 
vived in the Chandelar country which adjoins on the east. 

Really, Seward’s “land of icebergs, polar bears, and 
walrus,” his “worthless, God-forsaken region,” is doing 
fairly well, as countries go. 


504 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Nulato, nearly three hundred miles below Tanana, is 
one of the most historic places on the Yukon, and has the 
most sanguinary history. It was founded in 1838 by a 
Russian half-breed named Malakoff, who built a trading 
post. During the following winter, owing to scarcity of 
provisions, he was compelled to return to St. Michael, 
and the buildings were burned by natives who were jeal¬ 
ous of the advance of white people up the river. The 
following year the post was reestablished and was again 
destroyed. In 1841 Derabin erected a fort at this point, 
and for ten years the settlement flourished. In 1851, 
however, Lieutenant Bernard, of the British ship Enter¬ 
prise, arrived in search of information as to the fate of Sir 
John Franklin. Unfortunately, he remarked that he in¬ 
tended to “send for ” the principal chief of the Koyukuks. 
This was considered an insult by the haughty chief, and 
it led to an assault upon the fort, which was destroyed. 
Derabin, Bernard and his companions, and all other white 
people at the fort were brutally murdered, as well as 
many resident Indians. The atrocity was never avenged. 

Nulato is now one of the largest and most prosperous 
Indian settlements on the river. A large herd of reindeer 
is quartered there. There was, as every one interested in 
Alaska knows, a grave scandal connected with the rein¬ 
deer industry a few years ago. Many of the animals im¬ 
ported by the government from Siberia at great expense, 
for the benefit of needy natives and miners, were appro¬ 
priated by missionaries without authority ; but after an 
investigation by a special agent of the government there 
was an entire reorganization of the system. In all, Con¬ 
gress appropriated more than two hundred and twenty 
thousand dollars, with which twelve hundred reindeer 
have, at various times, been imported. There are now 
about twelve thousand head in Alaska, of which the gov¬ 
ernment owns not more than twenty-five hundred. There 



Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau • Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

Surf at Nome 





ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


505 


are also stations at Bethel, Beetles, Iliamna, Kotzebue, 
St. Lawrence Island, Golovnin, Teller, Cape Prince of 
Wales, Point Barrow, and at several other points. They 
are used for sledding purposes and for their meat and 
hides, really beautiful parkas and mukluks — the latter 
a kind of skin boot — being made of the hides. 

A native woman named Mary Andrewuk has a large 
herd, is quite wealthy, and is known as the “ Reindeer 
Queen.” 

We reached Anvik at seven in the evening. Anvik 
is like Uyak on Kadiak Island, and I longed for the 
frank Swedish sailor who had so luminously described 
Uyak. If there be anything worth seeing at Anvik — 
and they say there is a graveyard! —they must first kill 
the mosquitoes ; else, so far as I am concerned, it will 
forever remain unseen. Under a rocky bluff two dozen 
Eskimo, men and women, sat fighting mosquitoes and 
trying to sell wares so poorly made that no one desired 
them. Eskimo dolls and toy parkas were the only things 
that tempted us ; and hastily paying for them, we fled on 
board to our big, comfortable stateroom, whose window 
was securely netted from the pests which made the very 
air black. 

We left Anvik at midnight. We were to arrive at 
Holy Cross Mission at four o’clock the same morning. 
Expecting the Campbell to arrive later in the day, the 
priest and sisters had arranged a reception for the gov¬ 
ernor, in which the children of the mission were to take 
part. Thinking of the disappointment of the children, 
the governor decided to go ashore, even at that unearthly 
hour, and we were invited to accompany him. We were 
awakened at three o’clock. 

The dawn was bleak and cheerless; it was raining 
slightly, and the mosquitoes were as thick and as 
hungry as they had been at the Grand Canyon. Of all 


506 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


the passengers that had planned to go ashore, there 
appeared upon the sloppy deck only four — the governor, 
a gentleman who was travelling with him, my friend, and 
myself. We looked at one another silently through rain 
and mosquitoes, and before we could muster up smiles 
and exchange greetings, an officer of the boat called out: — 

“ Governor, if it wasn’t for those damn disappointed 
children, I’d advise you not to go ashore.” 

We all smiled then, for the man had put the thought 
of each of us into most forcible English. 

We were landed upon the wet sand and we waded through 
the tall wet grasses of the beach to the mission. At every 
step fresh swarms of mosquitoes rose from the grass and 
assailed us. A gentleman had sent us his mosquito hats. 
These were simply broad-brimmed felt hats, with the 
netting gathered about the crowns and a kind of harness 
fastening around the waist. 

The governor had no protection; and never, I am sure, 
did any governor go forth to a reception and a “pro¬ 
gramme ” in his honor in such a frame of mind and with 
such an expression of torture as went that morning the 
governor of “the great country.” It was a silent and 
dismal procession that moved up the flower-bordered walk 
to the mission — a procession of waving arms and flapping 
handkerchiefs. At a distance it must have resembled a 
procession of windmills in operation, rather than of human 
beings on their way to a reception in the vicinity of the 
Arctic Circle. 

So ceaseless and so ferocious were the attacks of the 
mosquitoes that before the sleeping children were aroused 
and ready for their programme, my friend and I, notwith¬ 
standing the protection of the hats, yielded in sheer ex¬ 
haustion, and, without apology or farewell, left the unfor¬ 
tunate governor to pay the penalty of greatness; left him 
to his reception and his programme ; to the earnest priests, 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


507 


the smiling, sweet-faced sisters, and the little solemn-eyed 
Eskimo children. 

This mission is cared for by the order of Jesuits. Two 
priests and several brothers and sisters reside there. 
Fifty or more children are cared for yearly,—educated 
and guided in ways of thrift, cleanliness, industry, and 
morality. They, are instructed in all kinds of useful 
work. About forty acres of land are in cultivation; the 
flowers and vegetables which we saw would attract 
admiration and wonder in any climate. The buildings 
were of logs, but were substantially built and attractive, 
each in its setting of brilliant bloom. How these sisters, 
these gentle and refined women, whose faces and manner 
unconsciously reveal superior breeding and position, can 
endure the daily and nightly tortures of the mosquitoes 
is inconceivable. 

“ They are not worth notice now,” one said, with her 
sweet and patient smile. “ Oh, no! You should come 
earlier if you would see mosquitoes.” 

“ Our religion, you know,” another said gently, “ helps 
us to bear all things that are not pleasant. In time one 
does not mind.” 

In time one does not mind! It is another of the lessons 
of the Yukon ; and reading, one stands ashamed. There 
those saintly beings spend their lives in God’s service. 
Nothing save a divine faith could sustain a delicate 
woman to endure such ceaseless torment for three months 
in every year; and yet, like the lone woman at Nation, 
their faces tell us that we, rather than they, are for pity. 
The stars upon their brows are the white and blessed stars 
of peace. 

The steamer lands at neither Russian Mission nor An- 
dreaofsky; but at both may be seen, on grassy slopes, 
beautiful Greek churches, with green, pale blue, and yellow 
roofs, domes and bell-towers, chimes and glittering crosses. 


508 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Down where the mouth of the Yukon attains a width 
of sixty miles we ran upon a sand-bar early in the after¬ 
noon, and there we remained until nearly midnight. It 
was a weird experience. Dozens of natives in bidarkas 
surrounded our steamer, boarded our barges, and offered 
their inferior work for sale. The brown lads in reindeer 
parkas were bright-eyed and amiable. Cookies and gum 
sweetened the way to their little wild hearts, and they 
would hold our hands, cling to our skirts, and beg for 
“ more.” 

A splendid, stormy sunset burned over those miles of 
water-threaded lowlands at evening. Rose and lavender 
mists rolled in from the sea, parted, and drifted away into 
the distances stretching on all sides; they huddled upon 
islands, covering them for a few moments, and then, with¬ 
drawing, leaving them drenched in sparkling emerald 
beauty in the vivid light; they coiled along the horizon, 
like peaks of rosy pearl; and they went sailing, like elfin 
shallops, down poppy-tinted water-ways. Everywhere 
overhead geese drew dark lines through the brilliant atmos¬ 
phere, their mournful cries filling the upper air with the 
weird and lonely music of the great spaces. Up and 
down the water-ways slid the bidarkas noiselessly; and 
along the shores the brown women moved among the 
willows and sedges, or stood motionless, staring out at 
their white sisters on the stranded boat. There were 
times when every one of the millions of sedges on island 
and shore seemed to flash out alone and apart, like a daz¬ 
zling emerald lance quivering to strike. 

They are dull of soul and dull of imagination who com¬ 
plain of monotony on the Yukon Flats. There is beauty 
for. all that have eyes wherewith to see. It is the beauty 
of the desert; the beauty and the lure of wonderful 
distances, of marvellous lights and low skies, of dawns 
that are like blown roses, and as perfumed, and sunsets 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


509 


whose mists are as burning dust. When there is no color 
anywhere, there is still the haunting, compelling beauty 
that lies in distance alone. Vast spaces are majestic and 
awesome ; the eye goes into them as the thought goes into 
the realm of eternity—only to return, wearied out with the 
beauty and the immensity that forever end in the fathom¬ 
less mist that lies on the far horizon’s rim. It is a mist 
that nothing can pierce; vision and thought return from 
it upon themselves, only to go out again upon that mute 
and trembling quest which ceases not until life itself ceases. 

The northernmost mouth of the Yukon has been called 
the Aphoon or Uphoon, ever, since the advent of the Rus¬ 
sians, and is the channel usually selected by steamers, the 
Kwikhpak lying next to it on the south. By sea-coast 
measurement the most northerly mouth is nearly a hundred 
miles from the most southerly, and five others between 
them assist in carrying the Yukon’s gray, dull yellow, or 
rose-colored floods out into Behring Sea, whose shallow 
waters they make fresh for a long distance. It is not 
without hazard that the flat-bottomed river boats make 
the run to St. Michael; and the pilots of steamers cross¬ 
ing out anxiously scan the sea and relax not in vigi¬ 
lance until the port is entered. 


CHAPTER XLIX 


We were released from the sand-bar near midnight, 
and at eight o’clock on the following morning we steamed 
around a green and lovely point and entered Norton 
Sound, in whose curving blue arm lies storied St. Mi¬ 
chael. 

St. Michael is situated on the island of the same name, 
about sixty miles north of the mouth of the Yukon. It was 
founded in 1833 by Michael Tebenkoff, and was originally 
named Michaelovski Redoubt. The Russian buildings 
were of spruce logs brought by sea from the Yukon and 
Kuskoquim rivers, as no timber grows in the vicinity of 
St. Michael or Nome. Some of the original Russian build¬ 
ings yet remain, — notably, the storehouse and the redoubt. 
The latter is an hexagonal building of heavy hewn logs, 
with sloping roof, flagstaff, door, and port-holes. It stands 
upon the shore, within a dozen steps of the famous “ Cot¬ 
tage,”— the residence of the managers of the Northern 
Commercial Company, under whose hospitable roof every 
traveller of note has been entertained for many years, — 
and in front of it the shore slopes green to the water. In¬ 
side lie half a dozen rusty Russian cannons, mutely testify¬ 
ing to the sanguinary past of the North. 

The redoubt was attacked in 1836 by the hostile Una- 
ligmuts of the vicinity, but it was successfully defended 
by Kurupanoff. The Russians had a temporary landing- 
place built outTo deep water to accommodate boats draw¬ 
ing five feet; this was removed when ice formed in the 

510 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


511 


bay. The tundra is rolling, with numerous pools that flame 
like brass at sunset; only low willows and alders grow on 
the island and adjacent shores. The island is seven miles 
wide and twenty-five long, and is separated from the main¬ 
land by a tortuous channel, as narrow as fifty feet in places. 
The land gradually rises to low hills of volcanic origin 
near the centre of the island. These hills are called the 
Shaman Mountains. The meadow upon which the main 
part of the town and the buildings of the post are situated 
is as level as a vast parade-ground; but the land rises 
gently to a slender point that plunges out into Behring 
Sea, whose blue waves beat themselves to foam and music 
upon its tundra-covered cliffs. 

On the day that I stood upon this headland the sunlight 
lay like gold upon the island; the winds were low, murmur¬ 
ous, and soothing; flowers spent their color riotously about 
me; the tundra was as soft as deep-napped velvet; and 
the blue waves, set with flashes of gold, went pushing 
languorously away to the shores of another continent. 
Scarcely a stone’s throw from me was a small mountain- 
island, only large enough for a few graves, but with no 
graves upon it. In all the world there cannot be another 
spot so noble in which to lie down and rest when “ life’s 
fevers and life’s passions — all are past.” There, alone, — 
but never again to be lonely ! — facing that sublime sweep 
of sapphire summer sea, set here and there with islands, 
and those miles upon miles of glittering winter ice ; with 
white sails drifting by in summer, and in winter the wild 
and roaring march of icebergs ; with summer nights of 
lavender dusk, and winter nights set with the great stars 
and the magnificent brilliance of Northern Lights ; with 
the perfume of flowers, the songs of birds, the music of lone 
winds and waves, out on the edge of the world — could 
any clipped and cared-for plot be so noble a place in which 
to lie down for the last time ? Could any be so close to God ? 


512 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The entire island is a military reservation, and it is only 
by concessions from the government that commercial and 
transportation companies may establish themselves there. 
Fort St. Michael is a two-company post, under the com¬ 
mand of Captain Stokes, at whose residence a reception 
was tendered to Governor Hoggatt. The filmy white 
gowns of beautiful women, the uniforms of the officers, the 
music, flowers, and delicate ices in a handsomely furnished 
home made it difficult for one to realize that the function 
was on the shores of Behring Sea instead of in the capital 
of our country. 

There is an excellent hotel at St. Michael, and the 
large stores of the companies are well supplied with furs 
and Indian and Eskimo wares. Beautiful ivory carvings, 
bidarkas, parkas, kamelinkas, baskets, and many other 
curios may be obtained here at more reasonable prices 
than at Nome. There are public bath-houses where one 
may float and splash in red-brown water that is never any 
other color, no matter how long it may run, but which is 
always pure and clean. 

No description of St. Michael is complete that does 
not include “ Lottie.” No liquors are sold upon the mili¬ 
tary reservation, and Lottie conducts a floating groggery 
upon a scow. It has been her custom each fall to have her 
barge towed up the canal just beyond the line of the mili¬ 
tary reservation, ten miles from the flag-staff at the bar¬ 
racks, thus placing herself beyond the control of the 
authorities, greatly to their chagrin. In summer she 
anchors her barge in one of the numerous bights along 
the shore, and they are again powerless to interfere with 
her brilliantly managed traffic, since it has been decided 
that their sway extends over the land only. 

It is Lottie’s practice to have the barge made fast in 
such a way that a boat can be run to it from the shore 
on an endless line. One desiring a bottle of whiskey 



Copyright by E, A. Hegg, Juneau Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle 

Moonlight on Beiihing Sea 











ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


513 


approaches the boat and drops his money and order into 
the bottom of it. The boat is then drawn out to the 
barge, whiskey is substituted for the money, and the pur¬ 
chaser pulls the boat ashore, where it is left for the next 
customer. 

There is no witness to the transaction and it has been im¬ 
possible to prove, the authorities claim, who put the money 
and the whiskey into the boat, dr took either therefrom. 

Lottie’s barge has operated for many years. Its illicit 
transactions could easily have been stopped had the civil 
authorities on shore taken a firm stand and worked in 
conjunction with the military ; but there was the usual 
jealousy as to the rights of the different officials — and 
Lottie has profited by these conditions. Furthermore, 
many people of the vicinity entertained a friendly feeling 
for Lottie — not only those who were wont to draw the 
little boat back and forth, but others in sheer admiration 
of the ingenuity and skill with which she carried on her 
business. She was careful in preserving order in her 
vicinity, was very charitable,' and frequently provided 
for natives who would have otherwise suffered. Thus, 
by her diplomacy, self-control, good business sense, and 
many really worthy traits of character, Lottie has been 
able to outwit the officials for years. Her barge still 
floats upon the blue waves of Norton Sound. However, 
it seems, even to a woman, that Lottie must be blessed 
with “ a friend at court.” 

We had been invited to voyage from St. Michael to 
Nome — a distance of a hundred and eleven miles — on 
the Meteor , a very small tug ; being warned, however, 
that, should the weather prove to be unfavorable, our 
hardships would be almost unendurable, as there was 
only an open after-deck and no cabin in which to take 
refuge. We boldy took our chances, remaining three 
days at St. Michael. 


514 


ALASKA: THE QBEAT COUNTRY 


Never had Behring Sea, or Norton Sound, been known 
to be so beautiful as it was on that fourteenth day of 
August. We started at nine in the morning, and until 
evening the whole sea, as far as the eye could reach in all 
directions, was as smooth as satin, of the palest silvery 
blue. Never have I seen its like, nor do I hope ever to 
see it again. To think that such seductive beauty could 
bloom upon a sea whereon, in winter, one may travel for 
hundreds of miles on solid ice! At evening it was still 
smooth, but its color burned to a silvery rose. 

The waters we sailed now were almost sacred to some of 
us. Over them the brave and gallant Captain Cook had 
sailed in 1778, naming Capes Darby and Denbigh, on 
either side of Norton Bay; he also named the bay and the 
sound and Besborough, Stuart, and Sledge islands ; and 
it was in this vicinity that he met the family of cripples. 

But of most poignant interest was St. Lawrence Is¬ 
land, lying far to our westward, discovered and named by 
Vitus Behring on his voyage of 1728. If he had then 
sailed to the eastward for but one day! 

Every one has read of the terrors of landing through the 
pounding surf of the open roadstead at Nome. Large ships 
cannot approach within two miles of the shore. Passen¬ 
gers and freight are taken off in lighters and launches 
when the weather is u fair ” ; but fair weather at Nome is 
rough weather elsewhere. When they call it rough at 
Nome, passengers remain on the ships for days, waiting to 
land. Frequently it is necessary to transfer passengers 
from the ships to dories, from the dories to tugs, from 
the tugs to flat barges. The barges are floated in as 
far as possible ^ then an open platform — miscalled a cage 
— is dropped from a great arm, which looks as though it 
might break at any moment; the platform is crowded 
with passengers and hoisted up over the boiling surf, 


ALA SKA : THE GREAT CO UNTRY 


515 


swinging and creaking in a hair-crinkling fashion, and at 
last depositing its large-eyed burden upon the wharf at 
Nome. I had pitied cattle when I had seen them un¬ 
loaded in this manner at Valdez and other coast towns! 

We anchored at eleven o’clock that night in the Nome 
roadstead. In two minutes a launch was alongside and 
a dozen gentlemen came aboard to greet the governor. 
We were hastily transferred in the purple dusk to the 
launch. The town, brilliantly illuminated, glittered like 
a string of jewels along the low beach ; bells were ring¬ 
ing, whistles were blowing, bands were playing, and all 
Nome was on the beach shouting itself hoarse in welcome. 

There was v no surf, there was not a wave, there was 
scarce a ripple on the sea. The launch ran smoothly 
upon the beach and a gangway was put out. It did not 
quite reach to dry land and men ran out in the water, 
picked us up unceremoniously, and carried us ashore. 

The most beautiful landing ever made at Nome was the 
one made that night; and the people said it was all 
arranged for the governor. 

There was an enthusiastic reception at the Golden Gate 
Hotel, followed by a week’s brilliant functions in his 
honor. 

Three days later the Meteor came over from St. Michael, 
with a distinguished Congressman aboard. The weather 
was rough, even for Nome, and for three blessed days 
the Meteor rolled in the roadstead, and with every roll it 
went clear out of sight.- 

There were those at the hotel who differed politically 
from the Congressman aboard the little tug; and, like the 
people of Nome when the senatorial committee was landed 
under such distressful circumstances a few years ago, 
their faces did not put on mourning as they watched the 
Meteor roll. 


CHAPTER L 


Nome! Never in all the world has been, and never 
again will be, a town so wonderfully and so picturesquely 
built. Imagine a couple of miles of two and three story 
frame buildings set upon a low, ocean-drenched beach and, 
for the most part, painted white, with the back doors of 
one side of the main business street jutting out over the 
water; the town widening for a considerable distance 
back over the tundra; all things jumbled together — 
saloons, banks, dance-halls, millinery-shops, residences, 
churches, hotels, life-saving stations, government build¬ 
ings, Eskimo camps, sacked coal piled a hundred feet high, 
steamship offices, hospitals, schools — presenting the ap¬ 
pearance of having been flung up into the air and left 
wherever they chanced to fall; with streets zigzagging in 
every conceivable and inconceivable, way — following the 
beach, drifting away from it, and returning to it; one 
building stepping out proudly two feet ahead of its 
neighbor, another modestly retiring, another slipping in at 
right angles and leaving a Y-shaped space; board side¬ 
walks, narrow for a few steps, then wide, then narrow 
again, running straight, curving, jutting out sharply; 
in places, steps leading up from the street, in others the 
streets rising higher than the sidewalks ; boards, laid upon 
the bare sand in the middle of the streets for planking, 
wearing out and wobbling noisily under travel; every 
second floor a residence or an apartment-house; crude 
signs everywhere, and tipsy telephone poles; the streets 

516 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


517 


crowded with men at all hours of the day and night; and 
a blare of music bursting from every saloon. This is 
Nome at first sight; and it was with a sore and disap¬ 
pointed heart that I laid my head upon my pillow that 
night. 

But Nome grows upon one; and by the end of a week 
it had drawn my heartstrings around it as no orderly, 
conventional town could do. From the very centre of 
the business section it is but twenty steps to the sea; 
and there, day and night, its surf pounds upon the beach, 
its musical thunder and fine mist drifting across the 
town. 

Ten years ago there was nothing here save the golden 
sands, the sea that broke upon them, and the gray-green 
tundra slopes; there is not a tree for fifty miles or more. 
To-day there is a town of seven thousand people in sum¬ 
mer, and of three or four thousand in winter — a town 
having most of the comforts and many of the luxuries to 
be obtained in cities of older civilization. Nome sprang 
into existence in the summer of 1899, and grew like Fair¬ 
banks and Dawson; but it is more wonderfully situated 
than, probably, any town in the world. For eight months 
of the year it is cut off from steamship service, and its front 
door-yard is a sea of solid ice stretching to the shores of 
Siberia, while its back yard is a gold-mine. There are 
many weeks when the sun rises but a little way, glimmers 
faintly for three or four hours, and fades behind the pali¬ 
sades of ice, leaving the people to darkness and un¬ 
speakable loneliness until it returns to its full brilliance 
in spring and opens the way for the return of the ships. 

Nome is picturesque by day or by night and at any 
season. Its streets are constantly crowded with traffic 
and thronged by a cosmopolitan population. The Eskimo 
encampment is on the “ sand-spit ” at the northern end of 
the main street, where Snake River flows into the sea; 


518 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


and the men, women, and children may be seen at all hours 
loitering about the streets in reindeer parkas and mukluks. 
Especially in the evenings do they haunt the streets and 
the hotels, offering their beautifully carved ivories for sale. 

Both the Eskimos and the Indians are lovers of music, 
and the former readily yield to emotion when they hear 
melodious strains. When a “ Buluga,” or white whale, is 
killed, a feast is held and the natives sing their songs 
and dance. The music of stringed instruments invariably 
moves them to tears. At a recent Thanksgiving service 
in Fairbanks, some visiting Indians were invited to sing 
“Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful.” With evident pleasure, 
they sang it as follows: — 

“ Oni, tsenuan whuduguduwhuta yilh ; 

Oni, yuwhun dutlish, oni nokhlhan, 

Oni, dodutalokhlho, 

Oni, dodutalokhlho, 

Oni, dodutalokhlho, 

Lud.” 

At Point Barrow, three hundred miles northeast of 
Behring Strait, an old Eskimo who could not speak one 
word of English was heard to whistle “ The Holy City,” 
and it filled the hearer’s heart with home-loneliness. A 
trader had sold the old native music-lover a phonograph, 
receiving in pay two white polar bear-skins, worth several 
hundred dollars. 

Some one gave an ordinary French harp to a little Es¬ 
kimo lad on our steamer; and from early morning until 
late at night he sat on a companionway, alone, indifferent 
to all passers-by, blowing out softly and sweetly with 
dark lips the prisoned beauty of his soul. 

All the islands of Behring Sea, #s well as the coast of 
the Arctic Ocean, are inhabited by Eskimos. From the 
largest island, St. Lawrence, to the small Diomede on 
the American side, they have settlements and schools. 



ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


519 


St. Lawrence is eighty miles long by fifteen in width; 
while the Diomede is only two miles by one. The natives 
beg pitifully for education — “ to be smart, like the white 
man.” We shrink from their filth and their immorality, 
but we teach them nothing better; yet we might see 
through their asking eyes down into their starved souls 
if we would but look. 

In many ways Nome is the most interesting place in 
Alaska. It is at once so pagan and so civilized; so crude 
and so refined. It is the golden gateway through which 
thousands of people pass each summer to and from the 
interior of Alaska.- Treeless and harborless it began 
and has continued, surmounting all obstacles that lay in 
its way of becoming a city. It has a water system that 
supplies its household needs, with steam pipes laid parallel 
to the water pipes, to thaw them in winter — and then it 
has not a yard of sewerage. It has a wireless telegraph 
station, a telephone service, and electric-light plant; and 
it is seeking municipal steam-heating. Electric lighting 
is excessively high, owing to the price of coal, and many 
use lamps and candles. There are three good newspapers, 
which play important parts in the politics of Alaska — 
the Nugget, the G-old-Digger, and the News; three banks, 
with' capital stocks ranging from one to two hundred 
thousand dollars, each of which has an assay-office; 
two good public schools; three churches; hospitals ; 
and a telephone system connecting all the creeks and 
camps within a radius of fifty miles with Nome. The 
orders of Masons, Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias, 
Eagles, and Arctic Brotherhood have clubs at Nome. The 
Arctic Brotherhood is the most popular order of the 
North, and the more important entertainments are usually 
given under its auspices and are held in its club-rooms; 
the wives of its members form the most exclusive society 
of the North. 


520 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The spirit of Nome is restless ; it is the spirit of the 
gold-seeker, the seafarer, the victim of wanderlust; and it 
soon gets into even the visitor’s blood. Millions of dol¬ 
lars have been taken out of the sands whereon Nome is 
now built, and millions more may be waiting beneath it. 
It seemed as though every man in Nome should be digging 
— on the beach, in the streets, in cellars. 

44 Why are not all these men digging ? ” I asked, and 
they laughed at me. 

44 Because every inch of tundra for miles back is 
located.” 

44 Then why do not the locators dig, dig, day and night ? ” 

44 Oh, for one reason or another.” 

If I owned a claim on the tundra back of Nome, nothing 
save sudden death could prevent my digging. 

New strikes are constantly being made, to keep the 
people of Nome in a state of feverish excitement and 
dynamic energy. When we landed, we found the town 
wild over a thirty-thousand-dollar clean-up on a claim 
named 44 Number Eight, Cooper Gulch.” Four days later 
an excursion was arranged to go out on the railroad—for 
they have a railroad — to see another clean-up at this 
mine. 

We started at nine o’clock, and we did not return until 
five ; and it rained steadily and with exceeding coldness 
all day. There was a comfortable passenger-car, but 
despite the wind and the rain we preferred the box-cars, 
roofed, but open at the sides. The country which we 
traversed for six miles possessed the indescribable fascina¬ 
tion of desolation. Behind us rolled the sea ; but on all 
other sides stretched wide gray tundra levels, varied by 
low hills. Hills they call them here, but they are only 
slopes, or mounds, with here and there a treeless creek 
winding through them. The mist of the rain drove across 
them like smoke. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


521 


We were received at the mine by Captain and Mrs. 
Johnson and Mr. Corson, the owners. The ladies were 
entertained in the Johnsons’ cabin home and the gentle¬ 
men at a near-by cabin, there being twelve ladies and 
twenty gentlemen in the party. An immense bowl of 
champagne punch — the word “ punch ” being used for 
courtesy — stood outside the ladies’ cabin and was not 
allowed to grow empty. Late in the afternoon the heap 
of empty champagne bottles outside the gentlemen’s cabin 
resembled in size one of the numerous gravel dumps scat¬ 
tered over the tundra ; yet not a person showed signs of 
intoxication. They told us that one may drink cham¬ 
pagne as though it were water in that latitude; and 
this is one northern “ story ” which I am quite willing to 
believe. 

At noon a bountiful and delicious luncheon was served 
at the mess-house. It was this same fortunate Captain 
Johnson, by the way, who opened fifteen hundred dollars’ 
worth of champagne when bedrock was reached in his 
Koyukuk claim. 

Sluicing is fascinating. A good supply of water with 
sufficient fall is necessary. Some of the claims are on 
creeks, but the owners of others are compelled to buy 
water from companies who supply it by pumping-plants 
and ditches. Boxes, or flat-bottomed troughs, are formed 
of planks with slats, or “ riffles,” fastened at intervals 
across the bottom. Several boxes are arranged on a 
gentle slope and fitted into one another. The boxes 
at “ Number Eight ” were twenty feet in length and 
slanted from the ground to a height of twelve feet on 
scaffolding. A narrow planking ran along each side of 
the telescoped boxes, and upon these frail foundations we 
stood to view the sluicing. The gravel is usually shovelled 
into the boxes, but “Number Eight” has an improved 
method. The gravel is elevated into an immense hopper- 


522 ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 

like receptacle, from which it sifts down into the sluice- 
boxes on each side, and a stream of water is kept running 
steadily upon it from a large hose at the upper end. Men 
with whisk brooms sweep up the gold into glistening heaps, 
working out the gravel and passing it on, as a housewife 
works the whey out of the yellowing butter. The gold, 
being heavy, is caught and held by the riffles; if it is very 
fine, the bottoms of the boxes are covered with blankets, 
or mercury is placed at the slats to detain it. 

The clean-up that day was twenty-nine thousand dol¬ 
lars, and each lady of the party was presented with a gold 
nugget by Mrs. Johnson. We were taken down into the 
mine, where we went about like a company of fireflies, each 
carrying his own candle. The ceiling was so low that we 
were compelled to walk in a stooping position. On the 
following morning we went to a bank and saw this clean¬ 
up melted and run into great bricks. 

The lure and the fascination of virgin gold is undeni¬ 
able. It catches one and all in its glistening, mysterious 
web. A man may sell his potato patch in town lots and 
become a millionnaire, without attracting attention; but 
let him “ strike pay on bedrock ” — and instantly he walks 
in a golden mist of glory and romance before his fellow- 
men. It may be because the farmer deposits his money in 
the bank, while the miner “sets up” the champagne to 
his less fortunate friends. Be that as it may, it is a slug¬ 
gish pulse that does not quicken when one sees cones of 
beautiful coarse gold and nuggets washed and swept out 
of the gravel in which it has been lying hundreds of years, 
waiting. If Behring had but landed upon this golden 
beach, Alaska — despite all the eloquence and the earnest¬ 
ness of Seward and Sumner—might not now be ours. 

To the Nome district have been gradually added those 
of Fopkuk, Solomon, and Golovin Bay, forty-five miles to 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


523 


eastward on the shores of Norton Sound, Cripple Creek, 
Bluff, Penny, and a chain of diggings extending up the 
coast and into the Kotzebue country, including the rich 
Kougarok and Blue Stone districts, Candle Creek, and 
Kowak River. 

When gold was discovered at Nome, prospectors scat¬ 
tered over the Seward Peninsula in all directions. Some 
drifted west into the York district, near Cape Prince of 
Wales, the extreme western point of the North American 
continent. In this region they found gold in the streams, 
but sluicing was so difficult, owing to a heavy gravel which 
they encountered, that they abandoned their claims, not 
knowing that the impediment was stream-tin. Wiser 
prospectors later recognized the metal and located claims. 
The tin is irregularly distributed over an area of four hun¬ 
dred and fifty square miles, embracing the western end of 
the peninsula. The United States uses annually twenty 
million dollars’ worth of tin, which is obtained largely 
from the Straits Settlement, although much comes from 
Ecuador, Bolivia, Australia, and Cornwall. Tin cannot at 
present be treated successfully in this country, owing to 
the lack of smelter facilities; bat now that it has been 
discovered in so vast quantities and of so pure quality in 
the Seward Peninsula, smelters in this country will doubt¬ 
less be equipped for reducing tin ores. 

The centre of the tin-mining industry is at Tin City, a 
small settlement three miles west of Teller, Cape Prince 
of Wales, and is reached by small steamers which ply from 
Nome. Several corporations are developing promising 
properties with large stamp-mills. Both stream-tin and 
tin ore in ledges are found throughout the district. 

The Council district is the oldest of Seward Peninsula, 
the first discovery of gold having been made there in 1898, 
by a party headed by Daniel P. Libby, who had been 
through the country with the Western Union’s Expedi- 


524 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


tion in 1866. Hearing of tlie Klondike’s richness, he re¬ 
turned to Seward Peninsula and soon found gold on Fish 
River. He and his party established the town of Council 
and built the first residence; it now has a population of 
eight hundred. This district is forestated with spruce of 
fair size and quality. 

The Ophir Creek Mines are of great value, having pro¬ 
duced more than five millions of dollars by the crudest of 
mining methods. The Kougarok is the famous district of 
the interior of the peninsula. Mary’s Igloo—deriving its 
name from an Eskimo woman of some importance in early 
da}^s — is the seat of the recorder’s office for this district. 
It has a post-office and is an important station. May it 
never change its striking and picturesque name! 

The entire peninsula, having an area of nearly twenty- 
three thousand miles, is liable to prove to be one vast gold¬ 
mine, the extreme richness of strikes in various localities 
indicating that time and money to install modern machin¬ 
ery and develop the country are all that are required to 
make this one of the richest producing districts of the 
world. 

The leading towns of the peninsula are Council, Solomon, 
Teller, Candle, Mary’s Igloo, and Deering, on Kotzebue 
Sound. Solomon is on Norton Sound, at the mouth of 
Solomon River; a railroad runs from this point to Coun¬ 
cil. 

The early name of Seward Peninsula was Kaviak — the 
name of the Innuit people inhabiting it. 

Gold was discovered on Anvil Creek in the hills behind 
Nome in September, 1898, by Jafet Lindeberg, Erik Lind- 
blom, and John Brynteson, the “three lucky Swedes.” 
In the following summer gold was discovered on the beach, 
and in 1900 occurred the memorable stampede to Nome, 
when fifteen thousand people struggled through the surf 
during one fortnight. Then began the amazing building 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


525 


of the mining-camp on the northwesternmost point of the 
continent. Anvil Creek, Dexter, Dry and Glacier creeks, 
Snow and Cooper gulches, have yielded millions of dol¬ 
lars. The tundra reaching back to the hills five or six 
miles from the sea is made up of a series of beach lines, 
all containing deposits of gold. Five millions of dollars 
in dust were taken from the famous “ third ” beach line in 
one season ; and its length is estimated at thirty or forty 
miles. The hills are low and round-topped, and beyond 
them — thirty miles distant — are the Kigluaik Mountains, 
known to prospectors by the name of Sawtooth. Among 
their sharp and austere peaks is the highest of the penin¬ 
sula, rising to an altitude of four thousand seven hundred 
feet by geological survey. 

There are several railroads on the peninsula. Some are 
but a few miles in length, the rails are narrow and “ wavy,” 
the trains run by starts and plunges and stop fearsomely ; 
but they are railroads. One can climb into the box-cars 
or the one warm passenger-coach and go from Nome out 
among the creeks, — to Nome River, to Anvil Creek, to 
Kougarok and Hot Springs, from Solomon to the Coun¬ 
cil Country, — and Nome is only ten years old. 

Nome has a woman’s club. It is federated and it owns 
its club-house, a small but pretty building. Its name is 
Kegoayah Kosga, or Northern Lights. It held an open 
meeting while we were in Nome. Bishop Rowe described 
a journey by dog sled and canoe, Congressman Sulzer 
gave an informal talk, and the ladies of the club pre¬ 
sented an interesting programme. The afternoon was 
the most profitable I have spent at a woman’s club. 

For two or three months in summer it is all work at 
Nome ; but when the snow begins to drive in across the 
town ; when the last steamer drifts down the roadstead 
and disappears before the longing eyes that follow it; 
when the ice piles up, mile on mile, where the surf 


526 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


dashed in summer, and the wind in the chimneys plays 
a weird and lonely tune; then the people turn to cards 
and dance and song to while away the long and dreary 
months of darkness. The social life is gay; and poker 
parties, whereat gambling runs high, are frequent. 

“ I’d like to give a poker party for you,” said a hand¬ 
some young woman, laughing, “but I suppose it would 
shock you to death.” 

We confessed that we would not be shocked, but that, 
not knowing how to play the game, we declined to be 
“bluffed” out of all our money. 

“ Oh, we are easy on cheechacos,” said she, lightly. 
“Do come. We’ll play till two o’clock, and then have a 
little supper ; curlew, plovers, and champagne — the 4 big 
cold bottle and the small hot bird.’ ” 

When we still declined, she looked bored as she said 
politely: — 

“ Oh, very well; let us call it a five-hundred party. 
Surely, that is childlike enough for you. But the 
men! ” 

I laughed at the thought of the men I had met in 
Nome playing the insipid game of five-hundred. 

“ Then,” said she, dolefully, “ there’s nothing left but 
bridge — and we just gamble our pockets inside out on 
bridge; it’s worse than poker, and we play like fiends.” 

We suggested that, as General Greeley had come down 
the river with us and would be over from St. Michael the 
next day, they should wait for him; when the first player 
has led the first card, General Greeley knows in whose 
hand every deuce lies, and I wickedly longed to see the 
inside of Nome’s composite pocket by the time General 
Greeley had sailed away. 

There was no party for us that night; but there is a 
wide, public porch behind a big store by the life-saving 
station. It projects over the sea and about ten feet above 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 527 

it, and upon this porch are benches whereon one may sit 
alone and undisturbed until midnight, or until dawn, 
for that matter, but alone — with the glitter of Nome 
and the golden tundra behind one, and in front, the far, 
faint lights of the ships anchored in the roadstead and 
the tumultuous passion of waves that have lapped the 
shores of other lands. 

Sitting here, what thoughts come, unbidden, of the 
brave and shadowy navigators of the past who have 
sailed these waters through hardships and sufferings 
that would cause the stoutest hearts of to-day to hesi¬ 
tate. Read the descriptions of the ships upon which 
Arctic explorers embark at the present time — of their 
stores and comforts ; and then turn back and imagine 
how Simeon Deslineff, a Cossack chief, set sail in June, 
two hundred and sixty years ago, from the mouth of the 
Kolyma River in Siberia in search of fabled ivory. In 
company with two other “ kotches,” which were lost, he 
sailed dauntlessly along the Arctic sea-coast and through 
Behring Strait from the Frozen Ocean. His “kotch” 
was a small-decked craft, rudely and frailly fashioned of 
wood; in September of that year, 1648, he landed upon 
the shores of the Chukchi Peninsula and saw the two 
Diomede Islands, between which the boundary line now 
runs. He must have seen the low hills of Cape Prince of 
Wales, for it plunges boldly out into the sea, within twenty 
miles of the Diomedes, but probably mistook them for 
islands. Half a century later Popoff, another Cossack, 
was sent to East Cape to persuade the rebellious Chuk- 
chis — as the Siberian natives of that region are called — 
to pay tribute; he was not successful, but he brought 
back a description of the Diomede Islands and rumors of 
a continent said to lie to the east. The next passage of 
importance through the strait was that of Behring, who, 
in 1728, sailed along the Siberian coast from Okhotsk, 


528 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


rounded East Cape, passed through the strait, and, after 
sailing to the northeast for a day, returned to Okhotsk, 
marvellously missing the American continent. Geogra¬ 
phers refused to accept Behring’s statement that Asia and 
North America were not connected until it was verified 
in 1778 by Cook, who generously named the strait for 
the illustrious Dane. 

Less than a day’s voyage from Nome is the westernmost 
point of our country — Cape Prince of Wales, the “ King- 
egan ” of the natives. It is fifty-four miles from this cape 
to the East Cape of Siberia, and like stepping-stones be¬ 
tween lie Fairway Rock and the Diomedes. Beyond is 
the Frozen Ocean. These islands are of almost solid 
stone. They are snow-swept, ice-bound, and ice-bounded 
for eight months of every year. But * ah, the auroral 
magnificence that at times must stream through the gates 
of frozen pearl which swing open and shut to the Arctic 
Sea! What moonlights must glitter there like millions 
of diamonds; what sunrises and sunsets must burn like 
opaline mist! How large the stars must be — and how 
bright and low! And in the spring—how this whole 
northern world must tremble and thrill at the mighty 
march of icebergs sweeping splendidly down through the 
gates of pearl into Behring Sea I 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 


The more one reads of Alaska and studies its development, 
the more deeply is one impressed with, and filled with re¬ 
spect and admiration for, the splendid and valuable work 
done for this country by the Geologic Survey. After the 
purchase of Alaska, the most brilliant and far-sighted act 
of the United States Government was the appointment of 
Alfred Hulse Brooks as director in charge of the Alaskan 
work, which was begun in 1898. A more conscientious, 
honest, self-devoted — and, at the same time, conservative 
— man could not have been found. No matter how bitterly 
the people of Alaska may rail at the government for not 
seeing their sore needs and remedying them, these complaints 
never include the Geologic Survey. A few lines in Dr. 
Brooks’ historical description of Mount McKinley, in his 
book, “The Mount McKinley Region,” reveal his character 
and the secret of the success of the Survey investigations. 
Writing of the traders and prospectors who passed near the 
matchless mountain, he says that they “must have obtained 
first-hand knowledge of the Alaska Range and its two tower¬ 
ing peaks (McKinley and Foraker) but most of them cared 
only for gold and were little interested in extending or dis¬ 
seminating geographic knowledge. One, however, W. A. 
Dickey, of a different type from the rest, recognized the sur¬ 
passing height of the peak and its geographic import and 
gave it the name McKinley.” There are “other things” 
than gold for Alfred H. Brooks. Those who have read Sarah 
2 m 529 


530 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Orne Jewett’s little story, “The White Heron” — the most 
inspiring short story ever written, by the way — of the little 
girl who found that she could not reveal the hiding-place 
of the beautiful white heron to the hunter who would have 
paid what, to her, seemed a fortune — ten dollars — will 
know what kind of “other things” I mean. His work is 
an inspiration, not only to the fine young men who work 
with him, but to every one who studies his, or their, work. 
He has pioneered this country; he has suffered hardships 
of all kinds — which those who do not know Alaska cannot 
even imagine — but not for himself, not for his own gain. 
It has all been for the development, the good, of Alaska; 
and for those unknown thousands who go there, or hope to 
go there, to make a fortune. When he is forced to disagree 
with or criticise another he is kindness and gentleness 
itself. 

When we have praised the work of the early explorers, 
prospectors, railroad builders — all that glorious band of 
men who have helped to set the star of empire shining in the 
North, but who were, at the same time, working for them¬ 
selves, — then we remember the quiet, unassuming man who 
has done more in recent years than any other to set this star 
shining for others; and we stand silent before him. 

Many of the richest discoveries of Alaska have been pre¬ 
dicted by the Survey before any gold was found, or any 
prospecting done; and without its work, and its clear re¬ 
ports, no one could write a book covering this great country 
with any degree of accuracy. 

For the information in this chapter the writer is, therefore, 
deeply indebted to Dr. Brooks and to many other members 
of the Geologic Survey; also, to Governor J. F. A. Strong; 
the Alaskan Engineering Commission; Mr. Kenneth C. 
Kerr; Mr. John H. Bunch; Mr. Samuel Murchison; Prof, 
C. C. Georgeson; Senator Wesley L. Jones. 


ALASKA: TEE GREAT COUNTRY 


531 


THE COPPER RIVER AND NORTHWESTERN 
RAILWAY 

In 1908 the only railroads in Alaska were the White Pass 
and Yukon Railway; the Alaska Central, building from 
Seward to the Tanana; the Copper River and North¬ 
western, building from Cordova to Kennicott; the Tanana 
Valley Railway, a narrow-gauge road, connecting Fairbanks 
with Chena and the richest claims of the mining district; 
and a few miles of narrow-gauge “wavy” track running out 
to the mines from Nome. The Alaska Central, and the 
Copper River and Northwestern were but little more than 
dreams. The latter was begun in the spring of 1908, the 
main line to Chitina was turned over to the operating de¬ 
partment in September, 1910, and the first copper from the 
mines at the end of the Chitina branch line reached the coast 
in April, 1911. In 1908 the most optimistic person did not 
foresee the tremendous success of the Bonanza copper mines; 
and even as recently as 1913 there were many who pityingly 
ridiculed this “freak railroad built between two glaciers.” 
Yet, from both its physical operation and its financial returns 
— to say nothing of its sublime scenic attractions — this 
is one of the most successful railroads ever built. It is owned 
by the Kennicott Mines Corporation, which at the present 
time has a cash surplus of more than twenty-one millions — 
or three times the amount Seward paid for Alaska in 1867 — 
his “land of icebergs and polar bears,” as his enemies sneer- 
ingly called it. 

The road was built by Engineer E. C. Hawkins and Con¬ 
tractor M. J. Heney — who built, also, the wonderful White 
Pass Railway, and who were two of the most dauntless and 
picturesque characters in the history of Alaska. They 
never failed in any undertaking, no matter how stupendous, 


532 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


and in the end they gave their lives to Alaska. In the 
winter of 1909-10, after a year of superhuman work and 
exposure, Mr. Heney was taken seriously ill while in New 
York on business. He was hurried to California and there, 
while slowly dying, directed the work in Alaska by cable. 

The building of the Copper River Railroad presented con¬ 
ditions which were absolutely unique in railroad construc¬ 
tion on the North American continent. The far-sighted 
engineers selected this route because entrance to the Copper 
River canyons could be effected, affording an easy water- 
grade line from the coast to the interior. Its superiority 
to all other routes considered has since been clearly demon¬ 
strated. 

Mr. Heney and Mr. Hawkins, with their engineering and 
construction forces, pioneered this country. There was no 
Cordova — only a cannery at Orca Inlet, which was at once 
purchased outright and the buildings converted into offices, 
warehouses, dining-room, and bunk-houses. 

Every official and employee of both the railroad and the 
contracting firm was sent in by steamship from Seattle — as 
was every pound of material and supplies, including coal, 
in that land of coal. Paraphrasing, one might cry — “ Coal, 
coal, everywhere, and not a pound to burn! ” 

There were no roads and no trails. It was a wild, un¬ 
inhabited country, beginning with the vast, boggy, tundra- 
covered flats of the Copper River, to cross which about 
seven miles of trestle bridges were built; advancing to 
the marvellous bridge across Copper River, which is built 
literally between two of the largest and most active 
glaciers in Alaska; and on through Abercrombie Canyon 
and the excessively difficult and trying country to the end. 
The work of the entire Kuskulana branch was accomplished 
under particularly wearing conditions. In summer, trouble 
with the tundra and boggy land made it difficult for men and 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


533 


animals to proceed; while in winter a temperature of from 
twenty to fifty degrees below zero, with frequent blizzards, 
interrupted work and caused much suffering, notwithstand¬ 
ing the very unusual comforts provided for both men and 
beasts. In this section, as on the Copper River flats, it 
was frequently necessary to build up the grade on a bedding 
of spruce branches and afterward to fill in gradually with 
gravel. 

The base of supplies was thirteen hundred miles from 
Cordova, and cement used in the solid steel bridge across the 
Kuskulana River cost two dollars a barrel in Seattle and more 
than twenty dollars a barrel at the bridge site, the excessive 
cost being caused entirely by abnormal difficulties of trans¬ 
portation. Not infrequently material for this bridge had 
been shipped from Pittsburgh to Seattle by rail; to Cor¬ 
dova by water; transferred to w T ork train; transferred at 
mile 55 to river boat; transferred at mile 132 to horse- 
sled ; thence to destination. The cost of the two great 
steel bridges alone was almost two million, five hundred 
thousand dollars. The cost of the last portion of the road 
before reaching Chitina was frequently two hundred thousand 
dollars a mile. 

The building of the Miles Glacier bridge was spectacular 
in the extreme, particularly its finish. Icebergs fifty by one 
hundred feet in size discharge from the glaciers and move 
majestically down the river. As they loosen and fall with 
tremendous thunderings, the waters plunge up the opposite 
shores more swiftly than horses could race and in great 
volume, frequently leaving scores of struggling fish upon the 
rocks. The range from high to low water was observed as 
twenty-four feet. 

I saw this bridge for the first and only time on the day of 
its completion. An excursion party of fifty guests, planned 
by Mr. Heney in California and Mr. Hawkins in Cordova, 


534 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


was carried out over the new road to the bridge. The 
engines were modern and powerful, the coaches modern and 
comfortable; and only once have I been entertained at a 
more elaborate luncheon than the one served in the camp 
dining-room at the glacier — and that was in surf-beaten 
Nome when Mr. Heney was again the host. Every deli¬ 
cacy that could be obtained in Seattle was served that day 
— while the last touches were being given a hundred yards 
away to a bridge that was to be one of the wonders of the 
country; and we had but to glance out of our windows to 
behold ice towers, minarets, and pinnacles breaking from the 
blue-white front of the glacier and go thundering down to 
the sea. 

During the construction of this bridge, for a distance of 
sixteen miles up the swift and turbulent Copper River, 
poling-boats loaded with animals, supplies, and equipment 
were pulled by men walking upon the shores. These boats 
passed directly in front of the three-mile face of Childs’ 
Glacier. On several occasions boats were struck by icebergs 
breaking off unexpectedly, and with passengers and freight 
were lost in the foaming waters. 

The false work for this bridge was laid on solid ice. As 
the time approached for the “spring thaw” hundreds of 
men were kept at work day and night, to finish it before the 
ice broke. They were offered a large bonus, if successful. 
The ice went out, bearing the false work with it, only a 
few hours after the bridge was completed. 

Cordova is even more beautifully located than Valdez and 
Seward. It is only a few years old, and is, of course, chiefly 
wooden; but its elevation gives a most charming view of 
mountains, islands, and sea. Very attractive modern bunga¬ 
lows clamber over the hills and terraces above the town 
and pearly snow-peaks slope up directly from the ends of 
the streets — creating vistas as unique as they are enchant- 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


535 


ing. Like most Alaskan towns Cordova has every modern 
convenience and luxury. Its harbor is as safe as it is beauti¬ 
ful, being completely land locked. Eyak Lake, near the 
town, is an exquisite body of water. 

The engineering work of the Copper River and North¬ 
western road was under the direction of E. C. Hawkins, chief 
engineer and vice-president; Alfred Williams, assistant chief 
engineer; and A. C. O’Neel, bridge engineer. M. J. Heney 
was the contractor, and the construction work in his depart¬ 
ment was under the direct supervision of Samuel Murchison. 

So modest and so generous were the two brave men who 
built two of the greatest and most wonderful railroads of 
the country, that in conversation with Mr. Hawkins one was 
given the impression that all the credit was due Mr. Heney 
and his forces; while with Mr. Heney, it was always — 
“Mr. Hawkins and our boys have done everything. I have 
been a broken reed. Mr. Hawkins is the bravest man and the 
finest gentleman I ever knew.” 

In his last hours on earth Mr. Heney wrote to a friend — 
“ I would give my right hand — yes, both my hands ! — to 
be on the work in Alaska to-day! ” 

Mr. Hawkins lived to see the great work finished and a 
brilliant success; but he, too, died very soon afterward. 

THE GOVERNMENT RAILROAD 

The beginnings and early history of the Alaska Central 
Railway are given elsewhere in this book. Notwithstand¬ 
ing its brilliant promise, the road went into the hands of a 
receiver in 1908, and in 1909 a decree of foreclosure and sale 
was entered in the case by the district court for the territory 
of Alaska. All the assets of the old road were conveyed on 
October 19, 1909, by deed of the United States marshal, to 
F. G. Jemmett, trustee. In the following April all these 


536 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


assets were conveyed by deed of the trustee to the Alaska 
Northern Company with the exception of a piece of land near 
the head of Resurrection Bay. 

This road is a single-track, standard-gauge road, and ex¬ 
tends in a northerly direction to Kern Creek, a distance of 
seventy miles. Owing to financial troubles the only por¬ 
tion operated recently has been from Seward to mile 47, 
and heavy snows have frequently interrupted operation 
altogether. In good weather a gasoline car, fitted for the 
accommodation of twenty-five people and express matter, 
has made the run about once a week. The road in 1914, 
when examined by the Alaskan Engineering Commission 
appointed by the President, was found to be in unsatis¬ 
factory physical condition, owing to lack of funds for main¬ 
tenance. Many of the bridges and trestles were unsafe, 
some being almost entirely washed out. It was estimated 
that five hundred thousand dollars would be required to 
place the road in condition to operate light trains safely. 

After all possible routes from the coast to the interior 
had been carefully surveyed and considered by the com¬ 
mission and fairly and impartially reported upon, the Pres¬ 
ident selected the route from Seward to Fairbanks, a dis¬ 
tance of about four hundred and sixteen miles, with a branch 
line of thirty-eight miles running to the rich Matanuska 
coal fields. The Alaska Northern was purchased in June, 
1915, for the sum of one million, one hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars, to become a part of the Government road. 
The same engineering commission which made the surveys 
and examination of the country is in charge of construction 
of the new parts of the road and the repair and operation 
of the old, under direct supervision of the Secretary of the 
Interior. The members are William C. Edes, chairman, 
Frederick Mears, and Thomas Riggs, Jr., men eminently 
fitted for this important work. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


537 


Early in 1915 administrative offices and general head¬ 
quarters were located at Seward, with Chairman Edes in 
charge. Chairman Edes also assumed active direction of 
the Alaska Northern Railway. The work of construction 
of new line began at Anchorage, a point where Ship Creek 
enters Knik Arm of Cook Inlet — one hundred and twenty 
miles north of Seward and five miles west of the main trunk 
route from Seward to Fairbanks. Anchorage is the head of 
navigation in the inlet for ocean-going steamers. This 
work was placed in charge of Commissioner Mears. Two 
parties were sent under Commissioner Riggs to make the 
final location north from Broad Pass to Fairbanks ; and three 
other parties to locate the line to Broad Pass and the branch 
to the coal fields. 

Within a few weeks Anchorage was a town of two thousand 
people, living in tents and log-houses. A dock and dock 
warehouse were erected at once; then others, a two-story 
office building, machine shops, storehouses, a mess-house 
for the accommodation of three hundred people, a hospital, 
and residences for married employees. The commission also 
erected a municipal building, a post-office, a federal jail, 
a schoolhouse, and a telephone building. Water has been 
secured from Ship Creek, and a water tank holding one hun¬ 
dred thousand gallons supplies the town. Streets have been 
graded and sidewalks laid, and adequate sewerage provided. 
Realizing the importance of innocent forms of amusement 
for the employees, the commission has erected a hall and 
furnished it with a billiard-table, a phonograph, late period¬ 
icals, and other equipment. Tennis courts are on adjacent 
ground. 

The President is authorized under the Alaskan Railroad 
Act to withdraw, locate, and dispose of such areas along the 
lines of proposed railroads for townsite purposes, as he may 
designate. The President has accordingly withdrawn a 


538 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


number of tracts and issued an order containing regulations 
for the survey of townsites and the sale of lots. These 
lots cannot be used for the sale of liquor, for gambling, or 
for immoral purposes. Provision is made for parks, schools, 
and other public uses. 

The commission has been hampered by the usual labor 
troubles and strikes, but these have been satisfactorily ad¬ 
justed. There has been, also, some conflict between Alas¬ 
kans and the commission, on account of certain townsite 
restrictions; but a reasonable modification of these has 
brought peace. As recently as the autumn of 1916 the 
commission notified the Anchorage Chamber of Commerce 
that the retail Government commissary at that place will 
be discontinued June 30, 1917, in deference to the protest 
of the merchants of Anchorage, who claimed that the com¬ 
missary had become a serious menace to their business. 

In September, 1916, fifty miles of new track had been 
completed and were in operation, thirteen miles were ready 
for the steel, fifty-nine miles were under construction, and 
extensive repairs had been made to the Alaska Northern, 
which is again in active operation. 

Since the construction of the Government road was be¬ 
gun, there has been a large demand for homesteads in the 
Matanuska, Susitna, and Tanana districts, which are to be 
developed by the railroad, in the Eagle River and Menden¬ 
hall districts of southeastern Alaska, and in the valleys of 
many islands. 

When the story of the building of the Government rail¬ 
road is told in detail, it will probably prove to be as thrilling 
— as filled with appalling obstacles, despair, courage, de¬ 
termination, superhuman effort, and unselfish achievement, 
as have been the stories of the other large railroads built 
in Alaska. To the present time we have reports only, 
and they are modest and conservative to a degree. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


539 


This is the first time the Government has attempted to 
build a railroad, and this fact alone presents peculiar diffi¬ 
culties that would not arise in the building of a road not 
under Government control. However, the members of the 
commission are men used to large affairs and capable of 
carrying this great and unusual work to a successful finish. 

About the first of December, 1916, Captain Mears, of 
the commission, stated that, owing to unexpected heaviness 
of work and the difficulty of getting supplies on time, the 
road to Fairbanks would not be completed before 1920 or 
1921 instead of 1918, as had previously been announced. 
The summer of 1916 had proved to be the roughest on 
Turnagain Arm in many years, and the weakness of bridges 
on the old Alaska Northern prevents the winter use of heavy 
rotary snow-plows to keep the road open beyond the forty- 
mile station. Instead of two thousand men at work on the 
Turnagain Arm of the division, as planned by the commission, 
there were less than a thousand. Captain Mears also re¬ 
ported that gambling is conducted at Anchorage, notwith¬ 
standing the efforts of the Government to suppress it. 


The Government railroad passes within twenty miles of 
Mount McKinley. At Broad Pass any man or any woman 
may, upon completion of the road, secure a horse and ride 
without hardship to the mountain, which rises in a glisten¬ 
ing, beautiful mass of snow and ice to a height of twenty 
thousand, three hundred feet. The most marvellous and 
entrancing features of this mountain are: first, its setting 
among other beautiful and inspiring snow-mountains, which 


540 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


rise to a height of sixteen or seventeen thousand feet; and 
second, the sublimity of rising directly seventeen thousand 
feet from its level plains. Snow peaks of eight or ten thou¬ 
sand feet appear as mere baby foothills beside it. 

It has a base of forty miles, and is estimated to be five or 
six miles on top. Standing on the levels lying between the 
various peaks, one beholds this magnificent object rising sub¬ 
limely into the heavens. It is not to be mentioned in the same 
breath with any other mountains, even though they may be 
the centres of attraction in national parks. It stands alone 
in its wonderful beauty and fascination. 

The Government will spend something like thirty million 
dollars in the building of its Alaskan railroad, but as soon 
as the peerless splendor of the Mount McKinley region 
becomes known to the world, the tourist travel alone will 
make considerable returns on the investment. There will 
be an ocean voyage up the inside route described elsewhere; 
through Icy Straits to the purple stretches of the North 
Pacific Ocean breaking upon the ice palisades of the glaciers; 
a journey on the new Government railroad from Seward to 
Fairbanks; and a horseback — or, a little later, an auto¬ 
mobile — ride to the mountain itself, starting at Broad 
Pass which is about halfway to Fairbanks. Could a more 
ideal summer vacation be planned ? 

In 1907 Mr. Charles Sheldon went up into the Mount 
McKinley country, built a little cabin, and remained there a 
year, absolutely alone some of the time. He reports that the 
region is “extraordinarily beautiful . . . positively and ab¬ 
solutely unique.” 

Mr. Sheldon found the winter climate delightful, and experi¬ 
enced no discomfort on the coldest days, wearing no heavier 
clothing than one would wear in the Adirondack Mountains. 

Game, both large and small, he reported as plentiful — 
foxes, wolves, marten or sable, rabbits, northern hare; but 


ALASKA: TUE GREAT COUNTRY 


541 


most plentiful of all, mountain sheep, moose, caribou, and 
bears. In one day’s journey, in fifteen miles he counted five 
hundred sheep, without search — in ordinary travel. Cari¬ 
bou gave him the impression of journeying on a cattle range; 
they would run up to his pack-train and investigate it 
curiously. 

Indians named this splendid mountain Troloika, or Tra- 
leyka, signifying “ great mountain,” but Vancouver was prob¬ 
ably the first white man whose eyes beheld it. While sur¬ 
veying Knik Inlet in 1794 he saw “ distant stupendous 
mountains covered with ice and snow and apparently de¬ 
tached from each other.” These were surely McKinley and 
Foraker, which is only about three thousand feet lower than 
its companion peak. The Russians knew the mountain and 
named it Bulshaia, but have left no description. In 1878 it 
was seen by A. Mayo and Arthur Harper in their ascent 
of the Tanana. Later it was seen and described by Frank 
Densmore, and for several years bore his name. 

In 1896 it was discovered anew and given its present name 
by W. A. Dickey. Without instruments, Mr. Dickey es¬ 
timated its height as twenty thousand feet. Two years 
later this remarkable estimate was verified by Robert Mul- 
drow, who surveyed it. 

Dr. Alfred H. Brooks and his exploring party in 1902 were 
the first to set foot on this, the highest mountain on the con¬ 
tinent, and James Wickersham was the first to attempt 
the ascent, but only reached an altitude of ten thousand 
feet. We are all familiar with the details, as published, 
of the Dr. Cook expedition, his claims of successful ascent, 
and the denials of his companions. It is claimed, also, 
that a party under Thomas Lloyd reached the summit in 
1910 and the Parker-Brown party in 1912. In 1913 Arch¬ 
bishop Stuck made a successful ascent. 


542 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


COMMERCE 

The value of Alaska’s commerce under normal conditions 
now exceeds one hundred million dollars annually. For the 
calendar year of 1916, unusual conditions prevailing, the 
total valuation exceeded one hundred and ten millions, the 
increased amount being occasioned by the high price of 
copper. In the days of Russian occupancy, the valuation of 
Alaska’s commerce was represented almost exclusively by the 
value of the year’s shipment of furs — chief of which were 
the sea-otter and the seal taken from Bering Sea; while the 
country, then as now, was rich in the finest grade of fox furs. 
(In 1915 the value of the furs of black, cross, blue, red, 
silver-gray, and white foxes was two hundred and forty 
thousand dollars.) To-day is beheld the invasion of the 
territory by American mining magnates with modern ma¬ 
chinery and unlimited capital delving into the same hills 
and dredging the same streams where the patient early pros¬ 
pector toiled with pick and pan — only too often to give up 
at last and turn away with stooping body and broken heart. 
Now these same hills and these same streams are enriching 
the world. 

Products of the North, after minerals and fish, include 
animals, curios, furs, ivory, fertilizers, jewelry, basketry, and 
miscellaneous products. Northbound, it includes supplies, 
machinery, and equipment for various enterprises. The 
valuation of this northbound movement for 1916 exceeded 
thirty million dollars, an increase of eight millions over the 
preceding year. 


MINING 

The first attempts at mining in Alaska ended in failure and 
discouragement. In 1849 a Russian mining engineer named 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


548 


Doroshin was sent out by the powerful Russian-American 
company to search for gold. He arrived safely at Sitka and 
for two years prospected the coast for gold ; but a few ounces 
of placer gold found on the Kenai peninsula proved to be his 
only reward, and although his own opinion of the district 
was favorable, the company abandoned the project in disgust. 
Its only other attempt at mining was in 1854, when an effort 
was made to operate and exploit coal mines on Cook Inlet. 
There, just within the entrance, at Coal Harbor, the Russians 
began extensive operations, importing experienced German 
miners to direct a large force of Muscovite laborers, and 
running their machinery by steam. Twenty-seven hundred 
tons of coal were mined before it was found to be of too low 
grade to mine profitably, although practically unlimited in 
extent. 

In 1888 some coal mining was done at Kachemak Bay. 
Between this year and 1896 there was placer mining, with 
promising, but not brilliant, success, at various places in the 
vicinity of Cook Inlet, and in 1887 gold was discovered in 
Fortymile River, in Alaska. Ten years later the great 
discovery on the Klondike started one of the wildest stam¬ 
pedes in the world’s history. This was followed by as 
sensational discoveries at Fairbanks and Nome and lesser 
ones in the Bonnifield, Kantishna, Willow Creek, Valdez 
Creek, and Rampart districts. Important gold discover¬ 
ies were also made in the southern part of the Rampart 
district. 

Productive mining in Alaska really began, but in a small 
way, in 1880, when the Juneau gold placers were first ex¬ 
ploited. The value of the first year’s total output was only 
twenty thousand dollars. Nine years later, Alaska’s output 
closely approached a million dollars. In 1900 it was eight 
million, one hundred and sixty-six thousand dollars. In 1906 
over twenty-two millions. 


544 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


The first copper was mined in 1901. The value of that 
year’s output was forty thousand dollars; in 1915 it was over 
fifteen millions. Up to 1909 all the gold produced from the 
Copper River and Cook Inlet region was derived from 
placers; there has since been an encouraging output from the 
auriferous lodes of Willow Creek, and a smaller one from 
those of the Kenai peninsula. The gold output of Seward 
peninsula is practically all from placers, with a little lode 
mining. Of recent years there has been some lode pro¬ 
duction from the Fairbanks district and some placer gold 
has been recovered each year in the lower Kuskoquim basin. 
Estimates from the various gold-producing regions indicate 
a gradual transition from placer to lode mining. 

Twenty-eight gold lode mines were operated during 1915 — 
thirteen in southeastern Alaska, five on Prince William 
Sound, four in the Kenai peninsula, three in the Willow 
Creek district, and three in the Fairbanks district. 

Thirteen copper mines were operated during the same year 
— six in the Ketchikan district, four on Prince William 
Sound, and three in the Kotsina-Chitina district. 

Thirty-five gold dredges were in operation, chiefly in the 
Seward peninsula district; two in the Iditarod, one in the 
Fairbanks, and one in the Birch Creek district. Placers 
were newly developed in the Tolovana and Marshall dis¬ 
tricts, on Dime Creek in the southeastern Seward penin¬ 
sula, and on Canyon Creek in the lower Kuskoquim region. 

In 1916 Alaska mines produced fifty million, nine hundred 
thousand dollars. The output in 1915, which was greater 
than that of any previous year, had a value of thirty-two 
million, eight hundred and fifty thousand. 

The product of the copper mines was valued at thirty-two 
million, four hundred thousand dollars; that of the gold 
mines, seventeen million, fifty thousand — of which ten 
million, six hundred and forty thousand dollars were from 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


545 


placers. Alaska also produced in 1916 silver, lead, tin, 
antimony, tungsten, petroleum, marble, gypsum, and coal 
to the value of one million, three hundred thousand. During 
thirty-two years of mining, Alaska has produced three hun¬ 
dred and fifty-one millions in gold, silver, copper, and other 
minerals. Of this amount two hundred and seventy-eight 
millions represent the value of the gold, and sixty-eight 
millions that of the copper. 

The value of Alaska’s lesser mineral products for 1916 is 
as follows: Silver, nine hundred and fifty thousand; tin, 
one hundred and twenty thousand; lead, one hundred 
and ten thousand; antimony, sixty thousand; tungsten, 
fifty thousand; coal, thirty thousand; petroleum, marble, 
and gypsum, one hundred and thirty thousand. Separated, 
the value of the coal is least of all, yet it was to conserve 
the coal that the great Alaska question projected itself 
into national affairs eleven years ago. 

About twenty-five gold-lode mines were operated in 1916, 
compared with twenty-eight in 1915; however, the value of 
this output increased from six million, sixty-nine thousand in 
1915 to six million, two hundred thousand in 1916. South¬ 
eastern Alaska, especially the Juneau district, is still the 
only centre of large quartz-mining developments in the terri¬ 
tory. Next in importance is the Willow Creek lode district. 
There was, also, considerable gold-lode mining on Prince 
William Sound, but a very decided falling-off of this industry 
in the Fairbanks district. 

In southeastern Alaska twelve gold-lode mines, seven 
copper mines, and two placer mines were operated in 1916. 
The value of the gold produced was about five million, nine 
hundred and sixty thousand dollars. The copper — all 
from the Ketchikan district—about one million. The chief 
copper producers were the Rush-Brown, Jumbo, It, Mamie, 
2n 


546 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


and Mount Andrew. The only other productive mining in 
the Ketchikan district was the operation of two small lode- 
gold mines and the quarrying of marble. 

The four mines of the famed Treadwell group in the 
Juneau district were operated as usual until August, 1916. 
Then the Two Hundred stamp-mill and half the stamps of the 
Three Hundred mill were shut down because of settling ground 
beneath other mines. The other mills continued operations. 

In February, 1913, the first unit of the Alaska Gastineau 
Mining Company’s new ore reduction works at Thane, three 
miles down the channel from Juneau, began crushing two 
thousand tons of ore daily. In 1916 this mill crushed six 
thousand tons daily. 

The Alaska-Juneau mine, adjoining the Perseverance in 
Silver Bow Basin, has been under extensive development 
for the past four years. It is one of the big mines of the 
country and, like the Perseverance, is operated economically. 
Development in 1916 continued in a large way, and construc¬ 
tion of the mill, which is to have a daily capacity of eight 
thousand tons, progressed satisfactorily. Its completion is 
expected in the spring of 1917. This mine is located on the 
mountain which rises, apparently, right out of Juneau, and 
through which a tunnel has been run. 

Juneau, the town, has changed and improved greatly 
since 1908. It is an up-to-date mining and commercial 
centre with five thousand people. It is the capital of Alaska. 
Offices and residences of the governor, territorial, educa¬ 
tional, land, federal, and executive officials are located here 
— including United States judge, attorney, marshal, and 
commissioner. There are three banks and a rapidly increas¬ 
ing commerce. From forty to fifty vessels call at Juneau 
each month, and wharves extend practically for three miles 
down the channel — whose illuminations at night are more 
beautiful than ever. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


547 


It is interesting to learn that the first attempt at lode-gold 
mining in Alaska was near Sitka in 1871, but was soon 
abandoned. Commercial mining was begun on gypsum de¬ 
posits near Iyoukeen Cove in 1902, which is continued on 
an extensive scale to-day, with an annual output of a hundred 
thousand dollars. In 1905 high-grade gold ore was dis¬ 
covered at Klag Bay, fifty miles north of Sitka, quite by 
chance by an Indian, who, stooping to drink from a stream, 
observed gold in a piece of quartz. One property, the Chica- 
goff, is well known, the ore being much richer than in other 
parts of the region. It is operating successfully. 

The discovery of the famous Bonanza mine in the Copper 
River region is elsewhere described, as related to the writer 
by one of the discoverers. Mining in this region now in¬ 
cludes development of the copper mines in the Kotsina- 
Chitina copper belt and placer mining in the Nizina, Kot- 
sina, and Christochina districts. In 1916 three copper mines 
were operated throughout the year and about eighteen 
placer mines during the summer. The enormous output 
from the Kennicott mine overshadowed all other operations. 
Had the transportation companies and smelters been able 
to handle the ore, many of the smaller copper mines would 
have made a larger output. The principal mines of this 
basin are the Jumbo and the Kennicott-Bonanza. Produc¬ 
tive mining was also carried on at the Mother Lode mine. 

The Chisana district was stampeded in 1913-14, but 
proved to be a disappointment at that time. It contains 
rich placer ground, however, chiefly on Bonanza, Little El¬ 
dorado, and Skookum creeks. Seventeen mines were oper¬ 
ated in the summer of 1915. The gold output was a hundred 
and sixty thousand dollars, the greater part being from 
Bonanza Creek. 


548 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Surveys of the coal areas of Alaska in the Bering River, 
Matanuska, and Nenana regions were completed in 1915. 
The coal lands were classified and certain areas in each 
field were set aside for the use of the Government. Coal 
lands may now be leased under the law, and regulations 
based upon it and carried in the lease. With the completion 
of railroads now building, a wonderful development of these 
fields is expected by all familiar with the situation. 

The unreserved coal lands have been divided by the Secre¬ 
tary of the Interior into leasing tracts of forty acres each, or 
multiples thereof, in such form as will permit the most 
economical mining of the coal; but in no case exceeding 
two thousand, five hundred and sixty acres in any one 
leasing block. The lands having been thus divided, the 
Secretary was authorized, and not before, to offer such tracts 
for leasing, and award leases by such plan as he might adopt 
— advertisement, competitive bidding, or otherwise. 

It is further provided that units of ten acres, or less, of 
coal may be leased for strictly local or domestic use free of 
cost, and under this law there has been some mining of 
coal. Coal in the Matanuska field was mined and shipped 
during the year to towns in that vicinity and for use of the 
Government railroad. Recent naval tests of Matanuska coal 
have established beyond question its excellence and fine 
qualifications for steam and other uses. With the develop¬ 
ment of coal lands, the building of smelters for the treat¬ 
ment of copper and other ores should immediately follow. 
Naval coaling stations will undoubtedly be established, and 
coal furnished for Government uses to the entire Pacific 
Coast. The Engineering Commission reported that there is 
practically no limit to Alaska’s coal supply. It is, however, 
impossible to mine coal profitably in Alaska until the rail¬ 
roads now building, and others contemplated, are finished. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


549 


As elsewhere stated in this book, the most important coal¬ 
fields are those of the Bering River, north of Controller Bay, 
comprising fifty square miles, or about thirty-two thousand 
acres, and the Matanuska, northeast of Cook Inlet, one 
hundred square miles, or sixty-four thousand acres. Both 
of these fields contain high-grade bituminous and anthracite 
coals, and both include coking coals. There is, also, high- 
grade bituminous coal on the Arctic sea-coast, but there is no 
hope of immediately developing it. Sub-bituminous coals are 
found on the Alaska peninsula, and in northwestern Alaska. 
Those on the peninsula are suited to local use, but are not 
of sufficiently high grade to be valuable for export. Lig- 
nitic coal is widely found in the territory. The largest areas 
are on the western side of the Kenai peninsula; and the 
Nenana field on the southern side of the Tanana Valley ; aboiR 
fifty miles from Fairbanks. 

A railroad is in construction from a point on Controller Bay 
to the Bering River coal fields. It will be about fifteen miles 
in length, and is intended as a coal carrier for the Alaska 
Petroleum and Coal Company, of Katalla. The company is 
developing a coal mine, patent to which was granted this 
year. A fine body of coal has been opened up, and coal 
will be ready for shipment when the road is completed for 
traffic in the spring of 1917. 

The Secretary of the Interior will furnish, upon request, 
a pamphlet of general information, and regulations govern¬ 
ing coal-land leases. A request addressed to the Commission 
of the General Land Office at Washington, D. C., will secure 
a blank application and lease; while those further interested 
may obtain from the Superintendent of Documents, Wash¬ 
ington, D. C., a folio of photolithographic copies of the 
approved plats of the topographic and subdivisional town¬ 
ship surveys of the Matanuska field, for one dollar, and 
of the Bering River field, for seventy-five cents. 


550 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


An almost nominal rental-charge is made of twenty-five 
cents an acre for the first year, fifty cents an acre for each 
of the remaining five years, and a dollar an acre thereafter. 
A royalty of five cents a ton is provided after the mines are 
opened up, which is low in comparison with the royalty 
required in many coal-fields of the United States. With the 
exception of some extremely low royalties in the Middle 
West, the range is from ten to twenty-five cents a ton; 
in the state of Washington, from fifteen to twenty-five 
cents a ton. 

Wells producing high-grade oils in limited quantity are 
found at the head of Katalla Slough, about halfway between 
Katalla and Controller Bay. From six to eight barrels of 
oil are pumped from several wells daily and the output dis¬ 
tilled at a small plant near. In September, 1915, the 
manager reported to the engineering commission that a 
fair return on and above the cost of operation and mainte¬ 
nance was obtained, with brighter prospects for the ensuing 
year. A large share of the gasoline and distillate used by 
Prince William Sound and Cook Inlet is supplied by this 
plant. The local gasoline was successfully used by the 
commission on their launches in Cook Inlet. Like the coal 
of Alaska, the oil is dependent for successful operation upon 
railroads. 

The high price of copper has caused increased activity in 
development of copper properties on Prince William Sound. 

_ During 1915 and 1916 the following produced and shipped 
ore : Beatson, on La Touche Island ; Ellamar; Threeman, 
on Landlock Bay; Fidalgo and Midas — in 1916 this was 
third in importance, Beatson being first and Ellamar second. 
The aerial tram from the Midas to the bay on Port Valdez 
was completed in 1915. 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


551 


Four gold quartz mines were operated — the Granite, 
Ramsey-Rutherford, Cliff, and Gold King, the first two 
being the largest producers. 

This is one of the largest and most important mining re¬ 
gions of Alaska for both copper and gold lode, the placer 
deposits being few and small. It includes the Port Valdez, 
Port Wells, and Tiekel districts. The mining properties are 
too numerous to mention separately here, but full descriptions 
may be obtained from the reports of the Geological Survey. 
The region is too well known, however, to demand detailed 
description. The value of its total mineral production for 
1916 was three million dollars. 

The region is one of the most beautiful and fascinating in 
Alaska, and is described elsewhere. 

The developed mineral resources of the Susitna-Mata- 
nuska-Nelchina regions include the Willow Creek gold-lode 
district, the Yentna and Valdez placer grounds, and the 
Matanuska coal fields. Auriferous gravels have been found 
on tributaries of Little Nelchina River, Tyone Creek, and 
Oshetna River. The entire course of Crooked Creek, a 
tributary of Little Nelchina, is covered with placer locations. 
Three gold-lode mines and twenty-five placer mines were 
operated in these districts in 1915. About twenty placer 
mines were operated in the Yentna district, and five in the 
Valdez Creek district, employing about ninety men in all. 

Nelchina is a small settlement of fifteen or twenty cabins 
at the mouth of Crooked Creek. It is the seat of the Nel¬ 
china recording precinct and the general headquarters of the 
region. Copper Centre is the principal settlement of this 
region. It is situated at the confluence of Copper and 
Klutina rivers, one hundred and one miles north of Valdez, 
on the Fairbanks-Valdez Government road, and may be 
reached by rail from Cordova to Chitina, thence by wagon. 


552 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


It is the distributing point for the various mining districts 
of the region. It has a post-office, a Government telegraph 
station, and a Government school for natives. 

For some time the mining on the Kenai peninsula has been 
practically at a standstill, but with the advent of the Govern¬ 
ment road, rapid advances will undoubtedly be made both 
in placer and lode mining. In 1915 about twenty-five placer 
mines were commercially productive. The value of the 
gold output was about eighty-eight thousand dollars, 
chiefly placer. In 1916 no advance was made. A small 
cyanide plant was installed and operated to handle the old 
tailings of the Apollo mine on Unga Island — one of the 
oldest in Alaska. A large body of low-grade auriferous 
quartz was found about three miles from the Apollo. 

Willow Creek mines lie ten miles north of the head of 
Knik Arm in a large area. In gold-lode mining this region 
is considered as standing next in importance to southeastern 
Alaska. The principal properties are those of the Alaska 
Gold Quartz Mining and the Gold Bullion Mining com¬ 
panies. 

Broad Pass is described as a wide valley connecting the 
heads of the Susitna and Chulitna rivers. It carries the 
lowest pass through the Alaska range — through which the 
Government railroad will run. The region is considered of 
important promise for the production of gold, copper ^ and 
coal when transportation problems are solved. So far, it is 
practically unexplored* 

The Bonnifield district south of Fairbanks has been placer- 
mined since 1903. The output, although not large, has been 
steady and promising. The region carries also large lode 
deposits and extensive fields of lignitic coal. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


553 


The beginning of the Fairbanks district is described else¬ 
where. Its story is one of the fascinating ones of Alaska; 
and with the completion of the Government railroad, it may 
take new glories unto itself. With the exhaustion of its 
bonanza deposits in 1908 the placer gold output began to 
decline. In thirteen years, gold to the value of over sixty- 
five million dollars has been produced from the placers. 
Lode mining began in 1910, and has yielded gold to the value 
of one million, sixty-eight thousand dollars. 

The decline in gold-mining in this district is by no means 
discouraging, being attributable to other reasons than the 
exhaustion of gold deposits — economic conditions, lack of 
transportation, and the transition from placer to lode mining. 
Wood has increased greatly in price, as have supplies; deep 
placer, or drift, mining is being employed more and more, 
and is the most expensive of mining operations. The com¬ 
pletion of the Government railroad is, therefore, awaited 
with feverish impatience by this district, as well as all others 
to which it will bring a long-needed relief. 

The placer gold output for 1916 was one million, eight 
hundred thousand. In addition to placer gold, the district 
produced lode gold, antimony, and tungsten to the value of 
one hundred thousand dollars. 

The Rampart and Hot Springs district include most of the 
triangular area between Yukon and Tanana rivers west of 
longitude 150°. It embraces about twelve thousand square 
miles, and includes a strip of territory lying along the opposite 
side of the Yukon and stretching westward nearly to longi¬ 
tude 154°. Gold was discovered on Minook Creek in 1893, 
although not creating much interest until several years later. 

During 1915 mining continued as in recent years. About 
fifteen mines were operated on Hunter, Little Minook, 


554 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Hoosier, Slate, Big Minook, Quail, and Ruby creeks. Opera¬ 
tions were on a small scale, and only about thirty-five 
thousand dollars in gold were recovered. 

In the Hot Springs district thirty placer mines yielded 
gold during the year to the amount of six hundred and ten 
thousand dollars. Stream tin was recovered from the placers. 
Important placers were developed on Woodchopper Creek. 
Large plants were also operated on Oakley, American, and 
Eureka creeks. Much of the mining in this district is of 
deep channels, permitting work in winter and summer. 

The Tolovana district lies east of Rampart. It is piacer 
ground and was discovered in 1914. Of the forty claims 
prospected during 1915, about ten may be considered pro¬ 
ductive mines. Gold was recovered to the value of eighty 
thousand dollars, but operations were hampered by lack of 
water. Tolovana and the other new camp of Marshall, 
on the Yukon, increased the placer gold output of 1916 con¬ 
siderably. 

The product of the Tolovana district in 1916 was five 
hundred thousand dollars; of the Marshall, four hundred 
thousand. 

The Ruby district lies south of the Yukon and west of the 
Fairbanks region. In 1915 sixty-one placers were worked, 
and the value of gold produced was seven hundred thousand 
dollars, the most extensive operations being on Long and 
Poorman’s creeks. The first discovery of gold was on Ruby 
Creek, near the site of the present town, in 1907. In 1910 
discoveries on Long Creek caused an inrush of people, and 
a permanent town was built during the summer on the bank 
of the Yukon. Stores, hotels, sawmills, and residences have 
been built and telephonic and telegraphic communication 
established. The principal work of 1916 was the installa- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 555 

tion of the dredge on Greenstone Creek, which operated 
during the summer. In the same year the placers produced 
to a value of eight hundred thousand dollars. 

Gold was discovered in the Innoko district in 1906. Loca¬ 
tion was first made on Ganes Creek by prospectors who 
rushed to the region, but all available ground was soon 
located. In 1908 valuable placer ground was located on 
Ophir Creek and on Little Creek; in 1909 mining was begun 
on Spruce and Yankee creeks. Twelve plants operated last 
winter on three creeks — Little, Ophir, and Ganes — and pro¬ 
duced gold to the amount of forty thousand dollars. 

The Iditarod district lies between the headwaters of the 
Iditarod and the Yukon. Gold was discovered in the Idita¬ 
rod district late in 1908 by W. A. Dikerman and John 
Beaton. The production in 1910 was valued at five hundred 
thousand dollars. In 1915 twenty-four mines were operated, 
employing four hundred men, and the value of the year's 
output was over two million dollars. The largest quantities 
of gold were obtained from Otter and Flat creeks by dredg¬ 
ing. No lode mining has been done in this, district, but 
antimony-bearing quartz veins have been prospected. 

Some of the deposits carry cinnabar and scheelite. The 
principal mining in this district in 1916 was that of a few 
large operators. The output was two million dollars in 
placer gold. 

The Kuskoquim Valley has a lowland province which 
extends about two hundred miles inland from the mouth of 
the river, a central province lying along the middle length 
of the river, and an extensive interior basin province which 
lies along the southeastern flanks of the inland section of 
the Kuskoquim Mountains. The river of the same name is 


556 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


second in size and importance to the Yukon. The tides of 
Bering Sea extend a hundred miles up the river and are 
noticeable for another hundred. Near Russian Mission on 
the Yukon the two great rivers bend sharply toward one 
another; then, as sharply, one turns to the north to find the 
sea, the other to the south — forming a vast coastal plain 
containing fully thirty thousand acres. Light-draft ocean 
vessels may ascend the tidal portion of the Kuskoquim for a 
distance of a hundred and fifty miles to the settlement of 
Bethel; and river steamboats may follow its channel for 
fully five hundred miles farther. 

This is one of the least known regions in Alaska. In the 
winter of 1900-01 there was a “yellow river” gold excite¬ 
ment and stampede from Nome, but the yellow river could not 
be found. Men sought it to the Kuskoquim’s headwaters 
near Mount McKinley, but it remains as mysterious and 
alluring as the “lost island” in the vast Pacific south of 
Kodiak. In 1907 several hundred prospectors left Nome for 
the Innoko district by way of the Kuskoquim. Some of these 
men stopped along the river and prospected. The Fisher 
party discovered gold in paying quantities on Bear Creek in 
1908. Open-cut mining has been conducted on this stream 
ever since that year. The stampede to the rich Iditarod 
placer gold region in 1910 led to an overflow into the central 
part of the Kuskoquim Valley, and the location of many 
placer claims. 

Bethel was established on the Kuskoquim in 1886, as the 
headquarters of a Moravian missionary society. It serves as 
a trading-post and supply-station for natives and pros¬ 
pectors, and irregular trade is carried on between this 
post and Seattle. The stampede that led to the ephem¬ 
eral settlement of Georgetown in 1910-11 encouraged com¬ 
mercial enterprise in the Kuskoquim region for a time, and 
led to the establishment of the station of Kolmakof, sixty- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


557 


five miles below Georgetown. Both these stations were dis¬ 
continued in 1914 and moved to a location on Takotna River. 

During the past year placer gold has been mined in the 
Kuskoquim region, from Goodnews Bay — an indentation in 
the southern part of Kuskoquim Bay — for three hundred 
miles northeasterly to Takotna River. In the Tuluksak- 
Aniak district five claims were worked by sixteen men. 
There were promising developments on Canyon Creek and 
good prospects are reported on Buck and Linda creeks, and 
in the Kwikluk River basin. In all, about twenty-five mines 
were operated in the Kuskoquim region, producing gold of a 
value of a hundred thousand dollars. 

The most productive mining during 1916 in this basin 
was done in the Aniak district. Good returns are said to 
have been obtained from the placers of Canyon and Windy 
creeks. 

The gold output from Seward peninsula in 1915 was two 
million, nine hundred thousand dollars. Tin, antimony, and 
coal were produced to the value of eighty-four thousand 
dollars. Since 1897 the gold placer mines of the peninsula 
have produced to the value of over seventy-one million 
dollars, and silver valued at two hundred and twenty-two 
thousand, five hundred dollars. More deep placer mining 
was done at Nome during 1915 than for many years. 

Placer mining in a small way was conducted in the Kobuk 
region, east of Kotzebue Sound. 

Since 1913 the placer-mining properties on Seward penin¬ 
sula have been consolidating to lessen the cost of dredging 
operations, and to finance additional mining ventures. Forty 
dredges were operating in 1914, four were constructed, and 
several others in course of construction. 

An important feature of recent Nome mining is the em¬ 
ployment of more economical methods than those formerly 


558 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


used, and it has even been suggested that the future of the 
dredging industry in this district depends upon cheaper 
methods of ground-thawing. 

It is expected that rich deposits will be discovered along 
the large, but practically unprospected, rivers, Kobuk and 
Noatak, flowing into Kotzebue Sound. Investigations by 
the Geological Survey are encouraging as to the probable 
discovery of placer gold in the district lying between the 
two rivers. The region is remote and difficult of access, 
lying north of the Arctic Circle. The climate is severe, the 
season short, the costs of transportation, supplies, and labor 
high, mining-timber and wood are to be found in only 
small areas; yet, notwithstanding all obstacles, it is believed 
that the region will repay examination by hardy prospectors. 

The Koyukuk district is one of the costliest in which to 
operate. Wages are from six to ten dollars a day, with 
board, which is three or four dollars. Supplies are brought 
up the Koyukuk to Betties, a distance of five hundred miles, 
by a steamer which makes four or five trips during each 
summer. Freight is ninety dollars a ton to Betties, from 
which place supplies are conveyed to Nolan on horse-scows 
at a cost of a hundred and forty dollars a ton. The summer 
freight rate from Nolan to the mines on Nolan Creek is a 
hundred and forty dollars a ton, and the winter, ninety 
dollars. Thus, the average operator pays more than three 
hundred dollars a ton for freight to his mine. There is not 
a good wagon-road in the district. Blacksmith coal is three 
hundred and fifty dollars a ton; hay, a hundred and fifty 
dollars. Notwithstanding the fact that more than half of the 
gross value of the total gold output is needed for the trans¬ 
portation, about thirty-five mines were operated in the dis¬ 
trict during the past year, producing gold to a value of three 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


559 


hundred thousand dollars. Only the richest ground makes 
operation possible. The output of 1916 was about the same. 

Placer gold was first found in the Chandalar district in the 
river bars of the Koyukuk between 1885 and 1890. One of 
the early pioneers to this region, John Bremner, was killed 
by an Indian in 1888. Previous to 1898 the placers at 
Tramway Bar bench and Hughes Bar and Florence Bar were 
the best producers of placer gold in the Koyukuk Valley. 
Since that year placers have been found in the tributaries of 
John and Wild rivers, and the north, middle, and south 
forks of the Koyukuk, and in the vicinity of the source of 
Big Creek in the Chandalar Valley. 

The Birch Creek district and the placers of Woodchopper 
and Beaver creeks are included in Circle precinct, which lies 
to the northwest of Eagle. One of the oldest on the Yukon, 
the Birch Creek district, is responding to modern methods of 
mining. These, together with the construction of a good 
wagon road from Circle to the district, have been important 
elements in its success. Gold to the value of two hundred 
and thirty thousand dollars was produced during the year 
from fifty mines. A new dredge was installed on Mammoth 
Creek and operated during the season. 

The Fortymile district was the first of the Alaska-Yukon 
gold fields to be developed. Placers were discovered there 
in 1886, and the district has produced over six million 
dollars. When the Klondike was discovered, Fortymile was 
yielding well, the output for 1896 being a half million. Of 
recent years the output has declined. The camps are iso¬ 
lated, operating costs high, and methods primitive, the in¬ 
stallation of machinery not having been attempted. Opera¬ 
tions now are on a small scale, but the possibilities of large 


560 


ALASKA: TEE GREAT COUNTRY 


mining developments are under investigation. During 1915 
about thirty placer mines were operated in Forty mile and 
Eagle districts, and the gold output, was valued at about 
ninety thousand dollars. 

FISHERIES 

The fishing industry is one of the most important of 
Alaska. It lies chiefly in the yield of salmon, but other 
fishes not yet so successfully utilized are cod, halibut, herring, 
trout, grayling, whitefish, rockfish, eulachon, and others. 
The first three have been used to develop some industry, it is 
true, as has the whale. Clams, crabs, and mussels are found. 
The crabs are of extraordinary size. Plants for canning of 
clams have recently been built. 

In 1915 the investment in fisheries amounted to over 
thirty-seven million dollars — of which thirty-one millions 
were credited to the salmon industry. The products of the 
fisheries in the same year, exclusive of aquatic furs, were 
valued at nearly twenty-one millions; in 1916, they ex¬ 
ceeded twenty-six millions. There were eighty-five canneries 
in operation, and others being installed. The most important 
feature of canning operations was the enormous output of 
humpback salmon in southeastern Alaska. 

The halibut fishing industry is credited with an output in 
1915 valued at nearly three million dollars; the cod, three 
hundred and ninety thousand; the herring, one hundred 
and fifty-five thousand; the whaling, three hundred and 
eighty-two thousand. 

The killing of fur-seals on the Pribiloff Islands is at present, 
and will be until 1922, limited to the number necessary for 
food for natives. The total value of the fur-seal product 
from 1867 to 1914 was fifty-one million, seventy-six thousand 
dollars. 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


561 


AGRICULTURAL 

Professor Georgeson, special agent in charge of agri¬ 
cultural experimental work in Alaska, who has rendered 
valuable service along these lines for several years, reports 
that successful farming in Alaska depends, in a very large 
measure, on favorable weather conditions. The season at 
best is brief, and when it is further shortened by early 
fall frosts, or by much cloudy and wet weather during the 
crop-maturing season, results are unsatisfactory. 

It has, however, been demonstrated, both at the Govern¬ 
ment experimental stations and by the actual experience of 
hundreds of settlers, that the country has agricultural capa¬ 
bilities of considerable range. In Puget Sound cities “ Alaska 
rutabagas” command higher prices and are considered more 
delicious than any others. 

It has been estimated that 100,000 square miles of Alaskan 
territory are capable of agricultural development, the prin¬ 
cipal areas of which are the Yukon, Kuskoquim, and Tanana 
valleys, the Susitna and Matanuska regions, western por¬ 
tions of the Kenai peninsula, and the Copper River Valley. 
There is also good land in the vicinity of Eagle and along 
the South Fork of Fortymile River. 

Since the building of the Government railroad was begun, 
every mail carries letters of inquiry from prospective settlers 
to the experimental station at Sitka. It has been found 
impossible to advise as to the most desirable section in which 
to locate a homestead. Climate, soil, market, and trans¬ 
portation must be considered. The regions through which 
the Copper River and Northwestern Railway and the Govern¬ 
ment railway run will naturally be settled first, particularly 
in the vicinity of Fairbanks — where many homesteaders 
have already located — and smaller settlements. Along 
2 o 


562 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


these roads new settlements will undoubtedly be formed by 
homesteaders who will appreciate the advantage of locating 
near one another for the promotion of educational, commer¬ 
cial, social, and general community interests. 

On the Yukon and the Tanana rivers good transportation 
for produce is provided during the summer. The home¬ 
steader is warned, however, to put aside his rosy glasses and 
to study the subject from every standpoint. The cost of 
transportation is necessarily high. The rates vary from 
year to year, but in 1915 Professor Georgeson found the 
fare from Seattle to Fairbanks to be about one hundred 
dollars, the lowest freight rate fifty-three dollars a ton, and 
the fare for an animal about the same as for a person. 

A homestead claim may be initiated by any person quali¬ 
fied to make entry in the United States, or by the use of 
soldiers’ additional homestead scrip. The area allowed was 
changed by act of Congress of July, 1916, from three hundred 
and twenty acres to one hundred and sixty acres, the act 
further providing that a previous homestead entry in another 
portion of the United States shall not be a bar to entry in 
Alaska. 

One-sixteenth of the area must be cultivated during the 
second year, and one-eighth the third year. 

An entryman who relinquishes a part of his claim does not 
forfeit the right to “prove up” on the remainder of the land. 

The five-month absence privilege may be divided into two 
periods. A commuting entryman may have such absences, 
but receives no credit for the time. The commutation 
price is a dollar and a quarter an acre. A settler on un¬ 
surveyed land need not apply for a survey until he is ready 
to submit either three-year or commutation proof. 

Nearly all the land must be cleared of a heavy growth of 
spruce, birch, and alder, and of moss. The soils are not 
usually deep and rich, except in the immediate vicinity of 


ALASKA : THE GREAT COUNTRY 


563 


rivers, but do respond satisfactorily to fertilization and 
cultivation. 

Government reports are always conservative, and they 
wisely warn the prospective settler from rushing to Alaska 
without having carefully studied the real conditions exist¬ 
ing there. Full homestead laws may be obtained in Cir¬ 
cular No. 414, issued by the General Land Office, Department 
of the Interior, Washington, D. C. 

Professor Georgeson has conducted many interesting ex¬ 
periments. 

Cultivated varieties of strawberries, too tender for the 
climate, have been crossed with the wild native berry of 
delicious flavor, producing hybrids that are hardy, exceed¬ 
ingly productive, and of fine quality. 

There are two wild species; one is found in the coast 
region, particularly along the beaches from Juneau to Prince 
William Sound and beyond. It is a low plant, producing 
berries, the largest of which are the size of a thimble and 
ranging from that down to the size of a pea, but they are of 
delicious quality. 

The other species is a native of the interior, where it 
grows in many places, but nowhere in profusion. It is a 
small tasteless berry, no larger than a pea. The only merit 
the plant possesses is extreme hardiness. By crossing these 
species wifh several cultivated varieties, four thousand va¬ 
rieties produced have borne fruit, and approximately ten 
per cent of these are of a quality and size that will justify 
further experiments. The hybrid plants are very much more 
vigorous than either of the parents, and their berries, in many 
cases, are also larger than the berries produced by the cul¬ 
tivated parents. Some of these berries will measure an inch 
and a half to an inch and three-quarters in the largest di¬ 
ameter. Some of them are of delicious flavor, others are 
insipid and inferior in flavor, and some of them retain the 


564 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


aroma of the wild berry, which is so pleasing. Nearly all 
of these berries are, unfortunately, too soft to bear shipment 
for more than short distances, and they are, therefore, not 
suited for market berries, but they cannot be exceeded in 
quality for home use. These hybrid berries prove to be 
hardy in the interior, both at Rampart and Fairbanks 
Experiment Stations, and it will, therefore, be possible to 
grow this delicious fruit all over the territory, as a result of 
these crosses. 

Another line of work which is being carried out at Rampart 
Experiment Station is the breeding of grains. The season 
is very short, seldom more than three months between frosts. 
It is imperative to develop varieties of grain that can grow 
up and mature in that length of time. Early varieties of 
grain obtained from other sources are small and poor yielders. 
They are, therefore, hybridizing the larger and later varieties 
of barley, oats, and wheat, cultivated in the states, with 
these early maturing sorts, in order to produce varieties which 
shall retain the earliness of the male parents and have some¬ 
thing of the vigor and yielding power of the varieties in 
common use. 

Probably the work which will prove to be of greatest 
value to future generations of Alaska farmers is the intro¬ 
duction and breeding of hardy species of alfalfa. Alfalfa is 
a legume. It belongs to the pea family, whefe clovers, 
vetches, and other pod-bearing species belong. This family 
of plants has the remarkable property which enables it to 
absorb and fix the free nitrogen of the air in its tissues and 
the nitrogen thus accumulated becomes available in the 
forage and as a fertilizer to the soil. Alaska has no indige¬ 
nous legume of sufficient value to make it worth cultivat¬ 
ing. At the Rampart station a species of alfalfa known as 
Medicago falcata, which grows wild in northern Siberia, 
has been introduced. It has yellow flowers, whereas common 


ALASKA: TUE GREAT COUNTRY 


565 


alfalfa has purple flowers. It is a smaller and finer plant 
than common alfalfa, but it has all other qualities of alfalfa, 
and in addition, it is sufficiently hardy to withstand any de¬ 
gree of cold that has ever been experienced in the interior. 
Some years ago, the Department of Agriculture procured some 
of this seed and it was sown at Rampart. It grew and pros¬ 
pered, and while many other varieties were tested, this is 
the only one that has survived the winters, and it matures 
seed every year, so that in course of time the area under 
culture can be extended indefinitely. 

Radishes, kale, turnips, mustard, and lettuce may be grown 
anywhere; carrots, parsnips, parsley, peas, cress, cabbage, 
cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, spinach, beets, potatoes, rhu¬ 
barb, and herbs may be grown along the coast — and in the 
interior if sites be chosen with special consideration of shelter 
and exposure to the sun. Other vegetables have not as yet 
been grown successfully, nor have apples and other fruits, 
although recent experiments promise that varieties may in 
time be secured which will prove satisfactory. However, 
Alaska’s berries are so large, abundant, and delicious of flavor 
that the lack of local apples is not seriously deplored, when 
the peerless ones of the coast states are but a few days’ 
voyage away. 

Scotland has a similar climate to that of Kodiak Island; 
therefore Galloway cattle and long-wooled sheep were chosen 
for breeding at that station — the Galloways being bred to 
Holsteins. 

The agricultural districts are almost as dependent upon 
railroads as are the mining. Other roads are also necessary 
to their development. The building of wagon-roads and 
trails was continued in 1916. The territory now has nine 
hundred miles of good roads, six hundred of winter sled- 
roads, twenty-two hundred of trails, the most important 
road being the one connecting Fairbanks with Valdez and 


566 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Chitina, forming the winter route to the coast. Good 
trails in winter connect Nome with both Fairbanks and 
Iditarod. 

MISSIONS 

In 1759 Glottof baptized the first native admitted to the 
Greek church. For nearly half a century thereafter the 
natives received no regular religious instruction, although 
Shelikoff and his wife claimed to have converted and en¬ 
lightened many. In 1817 Solokoff erected a church at Sitka, 
the altar being made of timber from the wreck of the Neva. 
In 1819 a church was built at St. Paul Island and another at 
St. George; in 1826, one at Unalaska. After its transfer to 
the United States, Alaska was without religious or educa¬ 
tional attention until 1877 when Dr. Sheldon Jackson went 
to that territory as the first ordained missionary from the 
United States, and located a teacher, Mrs. A. It. McFarland, 
at Fort Wrangel. The natives of that great country were 
found to be perishing in most degrading customs. In 1885 
Dr. Jackson was appointed general agent of education. He 
had appealed to other denominations, and in 1880 the region 
had been divided. The Presbyterians chose southeastern 
Alaska; the Baptists, the Prince William Sound region; the 
Methodists, the region from Kodiak westward; and the 
Moravians, who had early located at the deltas of the 
Yukon and Kuskoquim, remained in that region and are 
still doing a noble work among the natives. 

In 1880 Dr. Jackson built a church and founded the In¬ 
dustrial Training School for native children, established the 
North Star newspaper, and the Alaskan Society of Natural 
Plistory and Ethnology, erecting a museum building. He 
founded the most northern school — at Point Barrow — 
in 1890. In that year cooperating with the Government, 
he, with Lieutenant Bertholf and Captain Healy, of the Bear , 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


567 


imported the few reindeer which established a valuable 
industry. In 1877 Reverend John G. Brady — afterward 
governor of Alaska — and Miss Fannie Kellog were sent by 
the Presbyterian Church to Sitka. .The next year Missionary 
S. Hall Young, of the same church, went to Wrangel. These 
missions led to many others and to splendid work. Not one 
established in this region by this church has been abandoned. 
The Episcopalians have one native mission, the Friends two, 
the Catholics one or more, and the Greek Church three, in 
southeastern Alaska. The Swedish Evangelical Church has 
done good work, at Yakutat, the Baptists at Copper Centre 
and Wood Island, the Methodists at Jessie Lee Home at 
Unalaska — but for the rest, this vast region along the 
peninsula is cared for by priests of the Greek-Russian Church. 
These are supported by an endowment raised by the Ven¬ 
erable Veniaminoff, whose work is described elsewhere, as 
is the work of Bishop Rowe, and of Mr. Duncan at Met- 
lakahtla. At St. Michael is a Russian mission, a Catholic 
church, and a Presbyterian mission. There is a large Swedish 
Evangelical mission at Unalaklik, and another on Golofnin 
Bay — both established before the gold stampede at Nome. 
There are Episcopal, Catholic, and Congregational churches 
at Nome; at Sinrok, a Methodist mission; at Teller, one 
hundred miles northwest of Nome, a large mission and or¬ 
phanage of Swedish Lutherans; at Teller and Council the 
Presbyterians have done good work; at Cape Prince of 
Wales the Congregationalists have had a mission for thirty 
years; the Friends are at Kotzebue Sound; the Episco¬ 
palians have a large mission and reindeer station at Point 
Hope, and many along the Yukon — at Eagle, Circle, 
Yukon, Tolovana, Rampart, St. James Mission and Anvik; 
also, at St. John-in-the-Wilderness, Tanana, Fairbanks, 
Ruby, Chena, Nenana, and Delta. They have a mission 
boat, the Pelican , which travels thousands of miles each 


568 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


year. This church, under Bishop Rowe, is doing noble 
work. The Presbyterians are at Point Barrow and St. 
Lawrence Island. The Catholic Church supports missions 
at Fairbanks, Nulato, and Holy Cross. The Greek Church 
has one old mission near the mouth of the Yukon. In ad¬ 
dition, the various denominations have churches for white 
people in all the towns. In 1904 Archdeacon Stuck built a 
church and hospital at Fairbanks. In 1897 Dr. S. Hall 
Young was sent into the Klondike, where he gave splendid 
service. His work has been most valuable everywhere, and 
he is unusually generous in his praise of the work of other 
churches. 

REINDEER 

The reindeer industry is one of the big surprises of the 
decade in Alaska, the number having grown to seventy 
thousand, five hundred, distributed among seventy-six herds. 
Sixty-six per cent are owned by one thousand, one hundred 
and forty natives, five per cent by the United States, ten 
per cent by the missions, and nineteen per cent by Lap¬ 
landers and other white people. The total income of the 
natives from this industry for the fiscal year ending June 30, 
1915, exclusive of meat and hides used by the natives them¬ 
selves, was almost eighty-two thousand dollars. The dis¬ 
tribution of the reindeer has been accomplished through a 
system of apprenticeship lasting four years. At the end of 
that time the apprentice becomes a herder, having re¬ 
ceived thirty-six reindeer. He must then train and reward 
apprentices — the purpose of the Government being to 
provide for the economic welfare of the native. The Lap¬ 
landers received their deer in payment for teaching natives 
to care for them. Reindeer fairs are held on the Kusko- 
quim river and Seward peninsula, prizes being contrib¬ 
uted largely by Seattle merchants. The exportation of 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


569 


reindeer meat to the states has already begun, and is 
expected to become of importance. 

GOVERNMENT 

Executive 

The executive power is vested in the governor, who is 
appointed by the President for a term of four years, by 
and with the advice and consent of the Senate. The gover¬ 
nor may veto any bill passed by the territorial legislature 
within three days after it is presented to him. The bill 
must be vetoed within three days if the legislature continues 
in session, otherwise it becomes law without the governor’s 
approval. The legislature may override the veto by a two- 
thirds vote of all the members to which each house is entitled. 

Legislative 

The legislative power is vested in a territorial legislature 
consisting of a senate and a house of representatives. The 
senate consists of eight members, two from each of the four 
judicial divisions into which Alaska is now divided. The 
house of representatives consists of sixteen members, four 
from each of the four judicial divisions. The term of each 
member of the senate is four years, one member from each 
judicial division being elected every two years. The term 
of each member of the house of representatives is two years. 

The legislature convenes biennially at Juneau, the capital, 
on the first Monday in March in odd years, and the length 
of the session is limited to sixty days, but the governor is 
empowered to call a special session, which shall not continue 
longer than fifteen days. Elections for members of the 
legislature are held every two years on the first Tuesday 
after the first Monday in November of each even year. 


570 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


Judicial 

The judicial power of the territory is vested in the United 
States District Court for Alaska and in probate, juvenile, 
and justices’ courts. The district court is divided into 
four divisions, each presided over by a judge appointed by 
the President, by and with the advice and consent of the 
Senate, for a term of four years. It has the same jurisdic¬ 
tion as district courts of the United States, and in addition 
either appellate or original jurisdiction in all criminal ac¬ 
tions and civil causes when the amount in controversy does 
not exceed fifty dollars, arising under the acts of Congress 
locally applicable to the territory and the acts passed by the 
territorial legislature. The probate, juvenile, and justices’ 
courts are located in convenient precincts designated in 
each judicial division by the United States judges. They 
are presided over by United States commissioners, who are 
appointed by the United States judges, and who act as 
United States commissioners, judges of the probate and 
juvenile courts, and ex-officio justices of the peace. These 
courts have limited original jurisdiction in probate and 
minor civil and criminal matters arising under the federal 
statutes applicable to the territory and its territorial laws. 

Delegate to Congress 

The territory elects a delegate to Congress who may 
participate in debate, but who has no vote. 

The Territorial Legislature 

Governor Strong in his report of 1916 criticises the form 
of territorial government now existing in Alaska as follows: 

“The Alaska Legislature was created by an act of Con- 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


571 


gress approved August 24, 1912, and the first session was 
held in March, 1913 . . . 

“ The legislature is vested with limited power. In fact, the 
limitations are such as to make its legislative powers partake 
more of shadow than of substance. While Congress ex¬ 
tended to the legislature the authority ‘to alter, amend, 
modify, and repeal laws in force in Alaska,’ such authority 
naturally does not extend to the customs, internal revenue, 
the primary disposition of the soil, postal, or other general 
laws of the United States; but such purely local or terri¬ 
torial matters as the game and fish, and laws relating to 
fur-bearing animals of the United States applicable to Alaska, 
or to the laws of the United States providing for taxes on 
business and trade, or to the establishment and maintenance 
of schools, are under the exclusive control of Congress. 
Further, the territory is prohibited from creating any bonded 
indebtedness, and so are the municipalities; the territory 
may not levy for territorial purposes a tax in excess of one 
per cent in any one year, upon the assessed valuation of the 
property therein. Municipalities are limited to two per cent 
per annum. The above are some of the limitations that should 
be removed and the powers of the legislature extended so as 
to provide Alaska with the full form of territorial government, 
which was granted to every territory by Congress, Alaska 
excepted. In his message to Congress, in December, 1913, 
President Wilson recommended that the full form of terri¬ 
torial government be so extended, but no affirmative action 
in this respect has been taken, although bills with that 
object in view have been introduced in Congress. ... If 
Alaska is to receive the full measure of progress and growth 
to which it is fairly entitled by reason of its commanding 
preeminence in the matter of great natural resources, a 
liberal extension of local self-government is imperative. . . . 
It is not asked that Congress waive its right to control 


572 


ALASKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


those subjects of legislation that are national, and not local in 
their scope, and arguments should not be necessary in support 
of the territory’s right to control all its local affairs. . . . 

“ This statement is made in the full belief that the people 
of Alaska may be fully trusted with the government of them¬ 
selves. ... In my opinion the time for statehood has not 
arrived and until such time as Alaska is ready to assume 
the duties, privileges, and responsibilities of statehood, there 
seems to me to be no valid reason why the fullest possible 
measure of local autonomy should not be granted to the 
people who are developing a great country under conditions 
that are far from satisfactory and sometimes well-nigh in¬ 
tolerable. Added to the want of greater autonomy for the 
territory is its bureaucratic control from and by Washington. 
This should be minimized as far as possible in the interests 
of progress, development, and more efficient government. 
Bureaucracy is as insistent as it is pernicious in form and 
practice. In its essence it is restrictive rather than construc¬ 
tive, and its methods, as a rule, are prohibitive of that kind 
of progress which is so essential to the development of a new 
country far removed from the seat of national government.” 

The first bill to pass the first legislature convened in Alaska 
was one granting full rights of suffrage to women. The 
same legislature passed an anti-hanging bill, but this was 
vetoed by the governor. 

In November, 1916, Alaska voted itself “dry” by a vote 
of two to one. The law will become effective in 1918. 
This is the great Alaskan surprise of 1916. 

THE COAST GUARD 

Comparatively few people realize the service that has 
been rendered Alaska, its shipping, and coast residents by 


A LA SKA: THE GREAT COUNTRY 


573 


the Coast Guard, or Revenue-Cutter Service. When a 
wireless message flashes the information that a steamer is 
wrecked or in distress, it is followed by one stating that a 
revenue-cutter is flying to the rescue. 

These cutters have for fifty years served this lonely coast in 
various ways. They have explored and surveyed its harbors, 
carried the laws of their country into lawless regions, 
searched forbidding stretches of coast for wrecks and lost 
vessels and castaways, carried provisions and clothing to 
the starving and cold, and fired many a discouraged and 
despairing soul with courage and new hope. They patrol 
the waters, inspect the villages, render medical aid to 
suffering 'natives, enforce the fisheries regulations, the seal 
and sea-otter international treaties and the game laws, 
and even carry annually an itinerant United States Court 
from place to place. The Bear, on its annual cruise to Point 
Barrow, carries passengers, mail, and supplies to the lonely 
schools and missions of the coast and islands. A station 
is maintained in Nome, equipped for immediate service to 
shipping in distress. 


, 





' 



















APPENDIX 


In the preparation of this volume the following works have 
been consulted, which treat wholly, or in part, of Alaska. 
After the narratives of the early voyages and discoveries, 
the more important works of the list are Bancrofts “ History,’’ 
Dali’s “ Alaska and Its Resources,” Brooks’ “ Geography and 
Geology,” Davidson’s “Alaska Boundary,” Elliott’s “Arctic 
Province,” Mason’s “ Aboriginal Basketry,” Miss Scidmore’s 
“ Guide-book,” and “ Proceedings of the Alaska Boundary 
Tribunal.” 

Abercrombie, Captain. Government Reports. 

Alaska Club’s Almanac. 1907, 1908. 

Bales, L. L. Habits and Haunts of the Sea-otter. Seattle 
Post-Intelligencer. April 7, 1907. 

Bancroft, Hubert H. History of the Pacific States. 
Volumes on Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, Alaska, 
and Northwest Coast. The volume on Alaska is a consci¬ 
entious and valuable study of that country, the material for 
which was gathered largely by Ivan Petroff. 

Beattie, W. G. Alaska-Yukon Magazine. October, 1907. 

Blaine, J. G. Twenty Years of Congress. Two volumes. 
1884. 

Brady, J. G. Governor’s Reports. 1902,1904, 1905. 

Brooks, Alfred H. The Geography and Geology of 
Alaska. 1906. Also, Coal Resources of Alaska. 

Butler, Sir William. Wild Northland. 1873. 

Clark, Reed P. Mirror and American. 

Cook, James. Voyage to the Pacific Ocean. 1784. 

Coxe, William. Russian Discoveries. Containing diaries 
of Steller, the naturalist, who accompanied Behring and Sheli- 
koff, who made the first permanent Russian settlement in 

575 


576 


APPENDIX 


America; also, an account of Deshneff’s passage through 
Behring Strait in 1648. Fourth Edition. Enlarged. 1803. 
Cunningham, J. T. Encyclopaedia Britannica. 

Ball, William Healy. Alaska and Its Resources. An 
accurate and important work. This volume and Bancroft’s 
Alaska are the standard historical works on Alaska. 

Davidson, George. The Alaska Boundary. 1903. Also, 
Glaciers of Alaska. 1904. Mr. Davidson’s work for Alaska 
covers many years and is of great value. 

Dixon, George. Voyage Around the World. 1789. 
Dorsey, John. Alaska-Yukon Magazine. October, 1907. 
Dunn, Robert. Outing. February, 1908. 

Elliott, Henry W. Our Arctic Province. 1886. This 
book covers the greater part of Alaska in an entertaining 
style and contains a comprehensive study of the Seal Islands. 

Georgeson, C. C. Report of Alaska Agricultural Experi¬ 
mental Work. 1903, 1904, 1905, 1906. 

Harriman. Alaska Expedition. 1904. 

Harrison, E. S. Home and Seward Peninsula. 

Holmes, W. H. Report of the Bureau of American Eth¬ 
nology. 1907. 

Irving, Washington. Astoria. 

Jewitt, John. Adventures. Edited by Robert Brown. 

1896. John Jewitt was captured and held as a slave by the 
Nootka Indians from 1803 until 1805. 

Jones, R. D. Alaska-Yukon Magazine. October, 1907. 
Kinzie, R. A. Treadwell Group of Mines. 1903. 
Kostrometinoff, George. Letters and Papers. 

La Perouse, Jean Francois. Voyage Around the World. 
1798. 

Mackenzie, Alexander. Voyages to the Arctic in 1789 
and 1793. Two volumes. 

McLain, J. S. Alaska and the Klondike. 1905. 

Mason, Otis T. Aboriginal American Basketry. An ex¬ 
quisite and poetic work. 

Moser, Commander. Alaska Salmon Investigations. 

Muir, John. The Alaska Trip. Century Magazine. August, 

1897. 


APPENDIX 


577 


Muller, Gerhard T. Voyages from Asia to America. 
1761 and 1764. 

Nord, Captain J. G. Letters and papers. 

Portlock, Nathaniel. Voyage Around the World. 1789. 

Proceedings of the Alaska Boundary Tribunal. Seven 
volumes. 1904. 

Schwatka, Frederick. Along Alaska’s Great River. 1886. 
Lieutenant Schwatka voyaged down the Yukon on rafts in 
1883 and wrote an interesting book. His namings were un¬ 
fortunate, but his voyage was of value, and many of his sur¬ 
mises have proven to be almost startlingly correct. 

Scidmore, Eliza Ruhamah. Guide-book to Alaska. 1893. 
Miss Scidmore’s style is superior to that of any other writer on 
Alaska. 

Seattle Mail and Herald. March 7, 1903. 

Seattle Post-Intelligencer. 1906,1907, 1908. 

Seattle Times. 1908. 

Seward, Frederick W. Inside History of Alaska Pur¬ 
chase. Seward Gateway. March 17, 1906. 

Shaw, W. T. Alaska-Yukon Magazine. October, 1907. 

Simpson, Sir George. Journey Around the World. 1847. 

Sumner, Charles. Oration on the Cession of Russian 
America to the United States. 1867. 

Tuttle, C. R. The Golden North. 1897. 

Vancouver, George. Voyage of Discovery to the North 
Pacific Ocean. Three volumes. 1798. 
















INDEX 


A 

Abercrombie, Captain, 266, 287, 288. 
Admiralty Island, 107, 108. 

Afognak, 343-345. 

Agricultural Experimental Work, 
213-215. 

Alaska Central Railway, 298, 299. 
Alaskan Range, 224. 

Alert Bay, 16. 

Aleutian Islands, 392, 393. 

Aleutian Range, 224. 

Aleuts, The, 395-401. 

Anderson Island, 424. 

Annette Island, 59-64. 

Anvik, 505. 

Aphoon, The, 509. 

Apollo Mine, 368. 

Aristocracy of Alaska, The, 140, 141. 
Atlin, 441. 

Average Tourist, The, 11. 

B 

Baird Glacier, 106. 

Baranoff, Alexander, 163-185. 
Baranoff Island, 149. 

Barren Islands, 300. 

Basketry, 99-102. 

Beaver Dam, 284, 285. 

Behm Canal, 84. 

Behring, Vitus, 153-161. 

Belkoffski, 376-382. 

Berner’s Bay, 133. 

Besborough Island, 425. 

Bidarkas and Kayaks, 246. 

Bishop of All Alaska, The, 210-212. 
Boas, Franz, 16. 

Bogosloff Volcanoes, 411-413. 
Bonanza, The, 254, 255. 
boundaries, 37-49. 

Brackett Road, The, 430, 431. 

Brady Glacier, 135. 


Brady, Governor, 217, 349-350. 
Bristol Bay, 301, 420-423. 
Brooks, Alfred H., 497. 

Bruner Railway Company, 240. 
Brynteson, John, 524. 

Burke Channel, 23. 

C 

Call of Alaska, The, 19, 20. 
Campbell, Robert, 459. 

Camp Comfort, 276-278. 

Cape Darby, 425, 514. 

Cape Denbigh, 425, 514. 

Cape Douglas, 300. 

Cape Elizabeth, 300. 

Cape Fanshaw, 106. 

Cape Newenham, 423. 

Cape Prince of Wales, 424. 
Cape St. Elias, 238. 

Cape St. Hermogenes, 320. 

Cape Suckling, 238. 

Caribou Crossing, 441, 442. 
Carmack, George, 473. 

Chatham Strait, 134. 

Chena River, 499. 

Chief Kohklux, 141. 

Chief Shakes, 90. 

Chief Skowl, 68. 

Chignik, 366. 

Chilkaht Blanket, 136, 140. 
Chilkaht Inlet, 134. 

Chilkaht River, 139. 

Chilkoot Inlet, 136. 

Chilkoot River, 140. 

Chirikoff, Alexis, 153-161. 
Chiswell Rocks, 300. 

Chitina River, 244, 245. 
Cholmondeley Sound, 68. 
Chugach Alps, 224. 

Chugach Gulf, 246, 251, 252L 
Chugatz Islands, 300. 

579 



580 


INSEX 


Claim Staking in the Klondike, 484. 
Clarence Strait, 85. 

Clerk’s Island, 426. 

Climate, 259-264. 

Cluster of Hops, A, 129-131. 

Coal, 307-310. 

Coal Harbor, 310. 

Cold Bay, 365. 

Columbia Glacier, 257-259. 
Commercial Companies of the North, 
477-479. 

Comptroller Bay, 238. 

Convict Settlement, The, 230, 231. 
Cook, James, 245-250, 423-426. 

Cook Inlet, 299-307. 

Copper Mines, 253-255, 453. 

Copper River, 244, 245. 

Copper River and Northwestern Rail¬ 
way, 242-244. 

Council, 523. 

Croyere, Lewis de Lisle de, 154. 
Cudahy, Fort, 488. 

D 

Dali, William H., 97. 

Davidson Glacier, 134, 139. 

Dawson, 464-485. 

Dawson, George M., 462, 463. 

De Fuca, Juan, 4, 5. 

Dementief, Abraham Mikhailovich, 
155. 

Deshneff, Simeon, 527. 

Devil’s Thumb, 105. 

Diomede Islands, 424, 528. 

Discovery Passage, 14-16. 
Disenchantment Bay, 232, 233. 
Dixon Entrance, 65. 

Dixon, George, 228. 

Dora, The, 370-374. 

Down in a Great Gold Mine, 123-128. 
Dryad Trouble, The, 85, 86. 

Duncan, William, 55-64. 

Dundas, 100-102. 

Dutch Harbor, 393, 406-408. 

E 

Eagle, 488-490. 

Early Oil Companies, 240. 

East Cape, 424. 


Egbert, Fort, 488. 

Egegak, 420. 

Ellamar, 253-256. 

Emmons, G. T., 95, 385. 

Eskimo, 384-387, 421-426, 502, 518 
Eskimo Dog, The, 486, 487. 

F 

Fairbanks, 498-500. 

Fairweather Range, 223, 224. 

Father Juvenal, 327-332. 

Finlayson Channel, 27. 

Fiords of British Columbia, 24. 

First Russian Settlement, 326. 
Fitzhugh Sound, 22, 23. 

Five-Finger Rapids, 457. 

Fording Glacial Streams, 286-287. 
Forests of Alaska, 33-36. 

Fort Rupert, 17. 

Fort Wrangell, 85-92. 

Forty-Mile, 486. 

Fraser Reach, 27. 

Fraser River, 9. 

Frederick Sound, 105. 

G 

Galiana Island, 9, 17. 

Game Laws, 312-317. 

Gardner Canal, 30. 

Gastineau Channel, 114. 

Gay Life at Sitka, 175-185. 

Georgia, Gulf of, 9. 

Gibbon, Fort, 496. 

Glacier Bay and its Glaciers, 219. 
Glottoff, 321-326. 

Golovin Bay, 522. 

Gore’s Island, 426. 

Goryalya Volcano, 301. 

Government of Alaska, 348-351. 
Government of the Yukon, 472. 
Graham Reach, 27. 

Grand Canyon, 448-453. 

Great Bonanza Copper Mine, 290- 
294. 

“Great Unlighted Way,” The, 295- 
297. 

Greek-Russian Church at Sitka, 193, 
194. 

Grenville Channel, 27, 31-33. 



INDEX 


581 


H 

Hagemeister, 180, 181. 

Haidahs, 70. 

Haines Mission, 142. 

Hanna, James, 22. 

Hawkins Island, 248. 

Heikish Narrows, 27. 

Henderson, Governor, 471. 

Heney, M. J., 242, 427, 428. 
Hinchingbroke Island, 248. 

Hoggatt, Governor, 501, 505, 515. 
Holy Cross Mission, 505, 507. 

Homer, 311, 312. 

Hootalinqua River, 89, 434. 

Howkan, 68. 

Hubbard Glacier, 232. 

Hunt, Wilson P., 176-178. 

“Husky/' The, 486, 487. 

I 

Icy Cape, 424. 

Icy Straits, 219. 

Iliamna Lake, 301. 

Iliamna Volcano, 300. 

Indian River, 200, 201. 

Indians of Alaska, 69-84. 

In Keystone Canyon, 278-279. 

Inlets of British Columbia, 12, 13. 
Innuit, The, 385-387, 421-426. 

J 

Japonski Island, 152. 

Johnstone Strait, 17. 

Juneau, 114-120. 

K 

Kachemak Bay, 307. 

Kadiak Island, 318-342. 

Kaknu River, 300. 

Kamelinka, or Kamelayka, 246, 247. 
Karluk, 346-363. 

Karluk Hatcheries, 358-363. 
Kasa-an, 68. 

Kassitoff, 300. 

Katalla, 240-245. 

Kayak, 238, 239. 

Kaye Island, 238. 

Kenai Range, 224. 

Kennicott Glacier, 290-292. 


Ketchikan, 50-55. 

Klondike, 458-484. 

Knight’s Island, 248. 

Knik River, 300. 

Kodiak, 334-338. 

Koloshians, 70, 167, 217. 

Koyukuk, 503. 

Krusenstern, 172-174. 

Kuskokwim River, 420, 423. 

Kvichak River, 420. 

Kwakiutl Indians, 16. 

Kwikhpak, The, 509. 

L 

Labret, The, 25-26, 228, 229. 

Lake Bennett, 434-441. 

Lake Clark, 301. 

Lake Lebarge, 456, 457. 

Lake Lindeman, 440. 

Lama Pass, 23. 

La P^rouse, Jean Frangois, 225-229. 
Last Indian Trouble at Sitka, 208- 
209. 

La Touche Island, 254. 

Lewes River, 434. 

Lindblom, Erik, 524. 

Lindeberg, Jafet, 524. 

Lisiansky, 172-174. 

Lisi5re, or “Thirty-Mile Strip,” 45- 
49. 

“Little Redbirds,” The, 76-78. 
Lituya Bay, 225-229. 

Loring, 66. 

“Lottie,” 512-513. 

Lowering of the Russian Flag, 206- 
208. 

Lower Yukon, 501. 

Lynn Canal, 132-134. 

M 

McKay Reach, 27. 

Makushin Volcano, 395. 

Malamutes, 486-487. 

Malaspina Glacier, 235. 

Marmot Island and Bay, 319. 

Marsh Lake, 443. 

Mason, Otis T., 95. 

Matanuska River, 300. 

Meares, John, 4, 5, 251. 

Mendenhall Glacier, 132. 



582 INDEX 


Metlakahtla, 55-64. 

Miles Glacier, 244. 

Millbank Sound, 26. 

Modus Vivendi, The, 48-49. 

Moira Sound, 68. 

Montagu Island, 248. 

Mount Crillon, 225. 

Mount Drum, 285. 

Mount Edgecumbe, 149, 220. 
Mounted Police, 472, 473. 

Mount Fairweather, 225. 

Mount La P6rouse, 225. 

Mount Lituya, 225. 

Mount McKinley, 224, 297. 

Mount Regal, 290. 

Mount Wrangell, 290. 

Mr. Whidbey is “humane,” 137-138. 
Muir Glacier, 219. 

Muller, Gerhard T., 154. 

N 

Naha Bay, 66. 

Naknek River, 420. 

Needs of the Natives, 382-389. 
Niblack Anchorage, 68. 

Nizina District, 288. 

Nome, 514-528. 

Norton Sound, 424, 425. 

Nulato, 504. 

“Number Eight, Cooper Gulch,” 
520-522. 

Nushagak Bay, 420, 421. 

Nutchek, or Port Etches, 247. 

O 

Ogilvie, William, 462, 463. 

Oomiak, 246. 

Orca, 247. 

Over “the Trail,” 271-294. 

P 

Pedro, Felix, 497. 

Peril Strait, 150. 

Pinnacle Island, 426. 

Popoff, 367, 527. 

“Potlatch,” The, 81-82. 

Pribyloff Islands, 41--120. 

Prince of Wales Island, 68. 

Prince William Sound, 245-252. 


“ Promyshleniki,” 162-164. 

Purchase of Alaska, 185-188. 
Pyramid Harbor, 139. 

Q 

Queen Charlotte Sound, 18. 

R 

Railway Wars, 243, 244. 

Ramparts, Lower, 494-496. 
Ramparts, Upper, 457. 

Reindeer, 504-505. 

Revilla-Gigedo Island, 65. 

Ridley, Bishop, 58—59. 

Rink Rapids, 457. 

Rowe, Bishop, 210-212. 
Russian-American Company, 165- 
185. 

Russian Discoveries, 153-161. 
Russians on Cook Inlet, 304-307. 

S 

Safety Cove, or “Oatsoalis,” 22. 
Sailing for Alaska, 3. 

St. Augustine Volcano, 300. 

St. Elias Alps, 224. 

St. Lawrence Island, 154, 514. 

St. Michael’s, 426, 458, 509-514. 
Salmon Industry, The, 420-423. 

Sand Point, 374-375. 

San Juan Island, 6. 

“Sarah, The Remembered,” 27-29. 
Schafer, Professor, 41. 

Seaforth Channel, 23. 

Sealing Industry, 414-419. 

Sea-otter, 377-380. 

Seldovia, 302, 303. 

Selkirk, Fort, 459. 

Semidi Islands, 341. 

Seward, 297-299. 

Seward Peninsula, 515-528. 

Seward, William H., 186-188. 
Seymour Narrows, 15. 

Shelikoff, Grigor Ivanovich, 163-165. 
Shishaldin Volcano, 2, 31, 390-392. 
Simpson, Sir George, 56, 86, 195-197, 
Sitka, 167-217. 

Skaguay, 143-148. 

“Skookum Jim,” 473. 



INDEX 


583 


Skowl Arm, 68. 

Sledge Island, 424. 

Sluicing, 521-522. 

Snettisham Inlet, 109. 

“Soapy” Smith, 145-146. 

Solomon, 522. 

Spanberg, Martin Petrovich, 153-161. 
Steller, Georg Wilhelm, 154. 
Stephens’ Passage, 107. 

Stikine River, 85. 

“Strait of Anian,” The, 4. 

Strait of Juan de Fuca, 4. 

Stuart Island, 426. 

Sumdum Glacier, 107. 

Sumner, Charles, 187, 188. 

Sumner Strait, 103-105. 

Sweetheart Falls, 109. 

T 

“Tagish Charlie,” 473. 

Tagish Lake, 442. 

Taku Glacier, 109. 

Tanana, 496. 

Thirty-Mile River, 457. 

Thlinkits, The, 70-84. 

Three Saints Bay, 326, 333. 

Thunder Bay Glacier, 106. 

Tin, 523. 

Topkuk, 522. 

Totemism, 69-81. 

“To Westward,” 3, 220-224. 

“Trail of Heartbreak,” 431. 

Trails and Roads, 284, 285. 
Treadwell, 121-128. 

Twelve-Mile Arm, 68 

U 

Ugashik River, 420. 

Ukase of 1821, The, 37. 

Unalaska, 393-410. 

Unga, 367. 

Uphoon, The, 509. 

Uyak, 364, 365. 


V 

Valdez, 265-270. 

Vancouver, George, 21, 25, 135, 

305. 

Vancouver Island, 9-17. 

Veniaminoff, 189, 195, 398-401. 
Voskressenski, or “Sunday,” Har¬ 
bor, 164. 

W 

Walrus Herds, 424. 

Western Union Telegraph Company, 
460. 

Whidbey, Lieutenant, 30, 135-138, 
305. 

White Horse, 444-454. 

White Horse Rapids, 451. 

White Pass and Yukon Railway, 427- 
443. 

White Sulphur Springs, 212-213. 
Wingham Island, 238. 

Wood Canyon, 245. 

Wood Island, 338-341. 

Wood River, 420, 423. 

Wrangell Narrows, 103-104. 

Wright Sound, 30. 

Y 

Yakataga, 237. 

Yakutat Bay, 229-236. 

Yakutats, The, 83. 

Yanovsky, 180-181. 

Yehl, 77-78. 

Yukon Flats, 492-494, 508. 

Yukon, Fort, 491. 

Yukon River, 459, 485, 492, 508-509 
Yukon Soda, 446, 447. 

Z 

Zarembo Island, 103. 

Zarembo, Lieutenant, 85-86 


Printed in the United States of America. 






r T" 1 HE following pages contain advertisements of 
books by the same author or on kindred subjects 








BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


The Voice of April Land 

$1.25 

“A firm, vigorous touch, a large breadth of vision, and a 
maturity both of feeling and expression mark the poetry of 
Mrs. Ella Higginson. . . . The west speaks through Mrs. 
Higginson’s poems in a remarkable way. Her emotions have 
in them something titanic; her religious moods with all their 
intensity strike us as great-hearted. She has a keen sense of 
natural beauties and can portray them in an almost masculine 
metier. She is animal in essence, but animal in a most 
noble sense . . . powerful and exact . . . fine dramatic sense 

and a powerful grasp of the lugubrious.” — New York Globe. 

\ 

“Mrs. Higginson’s distinct and unquestioned ability is once 
again visible in ‘The Voice of April Land, and Other Poems.”’ 
— The Nation. 

“Such exquisite description, such delicacy, and purity and 
chasteness of expression, such dainty allusion and perfect 
shading, all appeal constantly to the reader and give such 
completeness of mental and spiritual satisfaction as might 
well have come to the gods when quaffing the fabled divine 
nectar.” — Northwest Journal of Education. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 


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BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


From the Land of the Snow Pearls 

$ 1.50 

Puget Sound lies in its emerald setting like a great blue 
sapphire, which at sunset draws to its breast all the marvelous 
and splendid coloring of the fire-opal. Around it, shining 
through their rose-colored mists like pearls upon the soft blue 
or green of the sky, are linked the great snow-mountains, so 
beautiful and so dear, that those who love this land with a 
proud and passionate love have come to think of it, fondly 
and poetically, as “the land of the snow-pearls.” 

The people of these stories are different from the types to 
which we are accustomed in our modern fiction. They are 
vital, crude, but most compelling. 

Ella Higginson tells their simple but gripping battles against 
terrible odds with a masculine force which we delight in and a 
feminine delicacy of treatment which makes them real litera¬ 
ture. The pathos and humor of these stories is of a most 
wholesome sort. 


“When it is said that not one story is poor or ineffective, the 
reader may get some idea of the rare quality of this new author’s 
talent.” — The Chronicle , San Francisco. 


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BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


When the Birds Go North Again 

$1.25 

Poems they are of a pure soul struggling ever towards 
God. The breath of the great North flutters through the 
pages. The relation of Nature to God is brought out all 
through the book with a poetess’ touch which delights the 
seeker of beauty and satisfies the lover of virtue. 

Mrs. Ella Higginson knows the wonderful Northland 
and loves it. She knows its people, birds, animals, and 
nature, and loves them all. With a poetess’ heart of mel¬ 
ody she sets forth in delightful poetry the love she bears 
to all which belongs to the North. 

We have had a great host of singers of the wonders 
of the South but the cold and barren North has been 
left too much to itself. This comparatively new poetess 
has rediscovered its wonders, and as a happy bird all but 
bursts its little throat in happy song as it perches in its 
new nest, so she sings of necessity of the great outdoors 
and the joys of a new country. 


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< 


Brazil : Today and Tomorrow 

By L. E. ELLIOTT 

$2.25. With Illustrations and Maps; decorated cloth , 8vo 

This volume seeks to show how and to what extent Brazil has 
been “opened up” and developed and by whom, and to outline 
some of the work that remains to be done. Miss Elliott first of all 
discusses present social conditions in Brazil, explaining who the 
Brazilian is, what political and social events have moulded him and 
what he has done to develop his territory; a territory 300,000 square 
miles larger than that of the United States. Later sections deal with 
finance, the monetary conditions of the country, the problem of ex¬ 
change, and the source of income. Still others take up various means 
of transit, the railroads, the coastwise and the ocean service, rivers 
and roads. Industries are treated in considerable detail — cattle, 
cotton raising, weaving, coffee growing and the rubber trade. 

The Danish West Indies 

By WALDEMAR WESTERGAARD 

$3.00. With Maps and Illustrations 

This volume presents for the first time a detailed and authoritative 
picture of Danish colonization in tropical America. It covers the 
administration of the Danish West India and Guinea Company 
(1671-1754), emphasizing the economic side, but touching on ex¬ 
ploits of buccaneers and pirates, even Kidd himself. The work is 
based on extended research in Danish archives. It brings into clear 
relief that curious triangular commerce on the Atlantic typical of 
seventeenth and eighteenth century Europe. 


Russia in 1916 


By STEPHEN GRAHAM 


$1.25 


Mr. Graham continues to write books about Russia because he 
continues to visit that country and to see wholly interesting and un¬ 
usual aspects of life there. This volume records his impressions 
during a tramping trip made in the summer of 1916. It embodies, 
then, his very latest ideas as to Russia and its people. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 


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